


Guardian

by DeathBelle



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Explosions, Guns, M/M, Minor Character Death, Rivals to Friends to Lovers, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Superhero!AU, Violence, injuries, more tags/characters to be added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-07 05:01:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 47,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21452428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/pseuds/DeathBelle
Summary: All Oikawa has ever wanted is to be one of Tokyo's top heroes. Unfortunately, he's always been at a disadvantage. He isn't super strong or super fast, he can't fly, and he doesn't have flashy, crowd-pleasing powers like some of his peers. Still, he does the best he can with what he has, and he thinks he's doing just fine.His agent disagrees.Oikawa gets roped into a working contract with one of the top five heroes in Tokyo; which, in theory, would be a good way for him to gain popularity.The problem is the hero he gets stuck with; Valor, aka Ushijima Wakatoshi.Oikawa already dislikes him on general principle, and meeting him only makes things worse. Oikawa wants nothing more than to work his way through this new contract and get on with his life. He doesn't need Ushijima, of all people, to help him climb the hero ranks. He can do just fine on his own.Except, as their contract wears on, Oikawa begins to realize that becoming popular isn't what matters most. It isn't about fame, and it isn't about gaining fans. Hero work is about something much more important, and as he spends more time with Ushijima, he learns what being a hero is truly about.
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 362
Kudos: 579





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Updates will be weekly!

Oikawa liked fighting crime. It was the career he’d wanted since he was old enough to want anything at all. He liked being in the middle of the action, liked the rush of adrenaline and the feeling of accomplishment. It was satisfying, fulfilling.

He tried to remember that as he hunkered down behind an upturned car, flames bursting over his head and threatening heatstroke. 

“I hate this job,” he hissed under his breath, slapping out the tiny flame that flickered on his shoulder. “I should’ve been an accountant. Normal working hours, decent pay,  _ air conditioning _ …”

“Shut up. You’d never be happy doing anything else and you know it.” Iwaizumi crouched close to him and slapped the back of his head. Oikawa thought he was just being mean, but realized Iwaizumi was putting out the fire teasing at his hair. 

“I’m not happy now,” said Oikawa. He reached back to feel for damage, but other than a little crispiness at the ends of his hair, it seemed to be in one piece. “I’m very unhappy. Do you see this, Iwa-chan? This is my unhappy face.”

“No, that’s your  _ whining like a little bitch _ face. Shut up and make me a path. If I have a clear shot, I can take her down.”

Oikawa sighed and frowned down at his hand. A flicker of cool blue light danced around his fingertips. “I can protect you from the flames, but I can’t insulate you against the heat. You could cook like a roasted chicken.”

“It’ll be over so fast I won’t have time to cook,” said Iwaizumi. He braced his hands against the asphalt and shifted into a runner’s stance. “Do it. I’m ready.”

“Fine,” said Oikawa, “but if you die, I’m telling the press it was your own fault for being stupid.”

“If I die, I won’t care what you tell them.”

Oikawa huffed, but extended a hand toward Iwaizumi and  _ pushed _ . The flicker of light swelled, solidified, and formed around Iwaizumi in a transparent orb. Oikawa felt it, in his fingertips and like a starlight tug at the back of his brain. 

“Stable?” asked Iwaizumi. He hadn’t moved.

“Yes,” said Oikawa. He resisted an eye roll. His powers hadn’t been unstable since middle school. 

…and that one incident in high school, but they didn’t talk about that.

“Move over,” said Iwaizumi. “I’m going straight through. It’ll catch her by surprise.”

“That’s a good excuse,” said Oikawa, crawling to the side while still keeping the cover of the sideways Toyota, “but I think you just like destroying things.”

Iwaizumi grinned, and said nothing as he slammed through the car.

It had been hard at first, to keep the forcefield around Iwaizumi when he used his powers. It had taken them months to figure it out. Oikawa could hold an orb for hours, if there was nothing fighting against it. But keeping one around Iwaizumi when he was speeding down the street at 300 kilometers per hour with enough force to take down a building was a little more challenging.

Challenging, but Oikawa did it.

The orb was blur as Iwaizumi flew down the street, directly at the woman who stood a half block away, wreathed in flames. She had created a literal firestorm that consumed the street and licked up the nearby buildings, transforming the city block into a hellscape. 

Most people had evacuated, if they’d been lucky enough to do so. Those who remained were probably hiding out of sight, hoping to be saved.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa didn’t have the luxury of hiding. They never did.

Iwaizumi catapulted into the depths of the fire, and Oikawa gritted his teeth as the pressure increased. He clenched his fists, kept the orb strong, and waited.

It didn’t take long.

The fire went out all at once, and the temperature of the air dropped so fast that Oikawa shivered. He stepped through the fissure Iwaizumi had made in the car and approached with his hand extended, fingers buzzing as he neared the orb.

Iwaizumi was still safely inside. The fire-maker was on the ground in a heap, unconscious.

“Nice job, Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa, stepping up beside him. “She never saw you coming.”

Iwaizumi was breathing a little too hard, his hair damp and sweat shining on his forehead. “Let me out of this thing. I’m fucking dying in here.”

Oikawa did so with a flick of his wrist.

Iwaizumi half-collapsed as the cooler air hit him, dropping to one knee and sucking in heavy breaths. Oikawa crouched beside him, dropping one hand on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. 

“Pull yourself together,” said Oikawa. He smiled in the exact way that annoyed Iwaizumi the most. “The civilians will be swarming in any minute. You don’t want them to see invincible Iwa-chan having a moment of weakness.”

Iwaizumi slapped his hand away and spat something vicious under his breath, but struggled to his feet. Oikawa stayed close, just in case Iwaizumi started to fall, but he stayed strong, as always.

As expected, it was only moments before people began creeping into the street from the surrounding buildings, keeping a wide berth around the fallen villain. They stared at the wreckage with wide eyes, some of them chattering away on cell phones, some of them snapping pictures. Oikawa wondered if the press would show up. That was the goal; it was always the goal. If they didn’t make the news for this then it had been a waste of time.

He heard his name in a murmur at first, coming from some of the civilians who looked at him with recognition in their eyes. It ran as an undercurrent, passing among the small crowd, mingling with Iwaizumi’s name, too.

“Guardian.” “Cannon.” “ _ Guardian _ .”

“See?” said Oikawa. He took Iwaizumi by the elbow and dragged him toward the crowd, not without effort. Iwaizumi hated this sort of thing.

But that was fine. Oikawa would talk enough for the both of them.

He put on his best smile, approached the onlookers, and hoped that the two of them would get a serious PR boost from this.

  
  
  
  
  


“And the insurance company is demanding that we reimburse them for the damages,” said Irihata. He steepled his fingers on the desk and peered over them at Oikawa. “The car was a total loss. Which isn’t surprising, considering Iwaizumi cannoned his way straight through it.”

“That wasn’t our fault,” said Oikawa. He tried to keep the whine out of his voice, but it was hard. This was just so  _ unfair.  _ “The fire-maker had already flipped it over. It was scorched before we even touched it. No one can blame us for that.”

“They can,” said Irihata, “and they are. I will try and dispute the claim quietly, but if they threaten to take the lawsuit public, we’ll have no choice. You can’t afford any bad press.”

Oikawa signed and slumped down in his chair. That, at least, was true. He was barely making it as a hero even without negative publicity. The only reason he’d gained any popularity at all was because he and Iwaizumi were such a successful team. Neither of them had powers flashy enough to make them popular as solo heroes.

“Your new uniform will be in later today,” said Irihata. “Since you damaged that, too.”

“I can’t help that she tried to set me on  _ fire _ ,” snapped Oikawa. 

Irihata’s face didn’t change. “That was a joke.”

“Right,” mumbled Oikawa. “Hilarious.”

“I do have some good news.” Irihata sat up straighter in his chair, eyebrows pulling lower. “The fight with the fire-maker received quite a bit of public attention. It appears she burned down a few heroes’ homes in Osaka last month. Your victory against her made national news. Only for about sixty seconds, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Sixty seconds of fame. Fantastic.”

“That sixty seconds means that anyone watching knew your name, at least for a minute. It’s progress, Oikawa. It means if they hear it again, they’ll remember you. That’s what we’re aiming for.”

Oikawa sighed, but didn’t argue. Irihata was right. It was just so frustrating that he’d been trying to make it for so long and a brief mention on national news was the current peak of his career. 

“I have an idea, of how to get your name out there,” said Irihata. “It’s a good idea. Great, even. Keep that in mind, because you won’t like it.”

Irihata was such an optimist.

Oikawa wondered if he should find a new agent.

“Hit me with it,” said Oikawa. He closed his eyes and braced for impact.

“I think you should pair up with a different hero, at least for a few missions. You and Iwaizumi work well together, but you need to establish yourself outside that partnership. Make yourself known to a new audience. If you work with someone else, then their fans will become your fans.”

Oikawa cautiously opened his eyes. That wasn’t a terrible idea. Oikawa didn’t immediately hate it.

Which meant Irihata wasn’t finished.

“You should team up with Valor.”

Oikawa’s hands curled into fists. His fingertips tingled. “No.”

“Oikawa, just listen-”

“I said no.” Oikawa stood and stomped toward the door. “Pick someone else.”

“He’s one of the top five heroes in Tokyo. There is no one else. At least, no one else who would get you the same kind of press coverage.”

“Then I don’t want it,” said Oikawa. “I’d rather be unknown until I die.” He yanked the door open, but it immediately slammed back. He turned to find Irihata scowling, a slight glow brightening his temples.

“I’m not finished,” said Irihata. 

“Well I am. Open the door.”

“At least consider it. The people love him. He’s stopped more crimes than most of the heroes in Tokyo combined. He’s stronger than anyone on this side of the world. He’s-”

“I know.” The words were pushed through gritted teeth. “I know exactly what Valor has done, and I know I don’t want to work with him.”

“Just think about it.”

“No.”

“Oikawa-”

“I said no.” He tried the door again, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Do you want to be a top hero or not?” asked Irihata.

“You know I do.” Oikawa folded his arms and glared at the door. “I want to be, and I will be. But not like this.”

“You’re twenty-five,” said Irihata. “Most heroes get their big break before thirty. I have faith in you, Oikawa. I believe in you more than I’ve ever believed in anyone. But you have to realize that you don’t have to do everything on your own. Let other people help you.”

“I’m not on my own. I work with Iwaizumi.”

“He’s in the same position you are,” said Irihata. “If one of you doesn’t improve your circumstances, then neither of you will ever go anywhere. It’s a good idea, Oikawa, whether you want to admit it or not. Promise me you’ll think about it.”

Oikawa sighed. He wished he had Iwaizumi’s powers, if only for a moment. He would blast straight through the door. “If I say I’ll think about it, will you let me go?”

“Of course.”

“Fine. Goodbye.”

The door swung open, and Oikawa stormed through. He hopped down the stairs and shoved his way through the agency’s revolving doors, feeling only slight relief as he hit the open air of the street. Dusk had fallen. Despite emerging from the front of a hero agency, and despite having worked as a hero for the past five years, no one spared him a second glance as they passed by.

Oikawa needed to get away from this office, before he went back upstairs and gave Irihata a bigger piece of his mind. He needed space, he needed distance, he needed-

His phone pinged in his pocket. He whipped it out and squinted at the screen.

_ Want to grab a drink?  _

Oikawa huffed a breath of relief and thanked the gods for Iwaizumi. 

  
  
  
  
  


“And then Mizoguchi said I might have to pay for the car,” said Iwaizumi. He frowned down at his whiskey. “Which is stupid. The damn car was already on fire when we got there.”

“Exactly!” said Oikawa. “I told Irihata the same thing. You’d think that when we saved people from  _ dying _ , a car would be the last thing on their minds.”

“Top heroes don’t get this bullshit.” Iwaizumi tipped back the rest of his drink and gestured to the waitress to bring him another. “You think Lotus has ever had anyone whining to her about collateral damage? Shit gets destroyed around her all the time, but no one complains about it. They just thank her for saving their lives.”

Oikawa took another sip of his drink and drummed his fingers against the table. The constant buzz had bled further into his hands, numbing his palms and tickling at his wrists. It always got sloppier when he was drinking. He had to be careful about his alcohol intake.

Iwaizumi had no such reservations. As soon as the waitress delivered his fresh drink, he tossed it back with a satisfying grimace.

“Irihata talked to me about something else,” said Oikawa. He pushed a hand through his hair. The crackle just beneath his skin felt like static electricity. It was a little too much, so he pushed away the rest of his drink. He couldn’t afford to lose control. “He said it would be a good idea for me to work with someone else on a couple of missions. Just to reach a different audience.”

“He thinks I’m not good enough for you?”

Oikawa smiled despite himself. “Yes, that’s exactly what he thinks. Iwa-chan is holding me back. Without you, I’d be a top hero.”

“Without me, you’d be dead,” said Iwaizumi. He reached for Oikawa’s neglected drink and finished it off. “It’s not a bad idea. Every hero has their own fanbase. If you make nice with some of the others, you’d gain some more fans, too.”

Oikawa’s expression soured. “You didn’t let me finish.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “What?”

“He wants me to team up with…  _ Valor _ .” Oikawa spat the name like a curse. He expected Iwaizumi to be just as disgusted as he was, to be outraged by the suggestion.

But Iwaizumi only appeared pensive, head tilted slightly as he considered. “Valor is one of the best in the city. You’d get a lot of attention if you worked with him.”

“I thought you were my friend.”

“I am,” said Iwaizumi. “And as your friend, I think you should stop holding that stupid grudge against him and do what’s best for your career.”

“It’s not a stupid grudge.” Oikawa sank back in his chair and folded his arms. He’d thought, that of all people, Iwaizumi would take his side on this. “He’s the worst and I hate him.”

“Because of your stupid grudge.”

“It’s not-”

“You only hate him because he’s more popular than you,” said Iwaizumi. He accepted another drink from the waitress, who’d brought him a refill without even asking. He gave her a smile that was slightly lopsided and took a small sip. 

“That isn’t true.”

“Yeah, it is. I should know. I’ve listened to you whine about him since we were teenagers.” Iwaizumi’s stare became more serious, his eyes slightly glossy from the alcohol. “You don’t have to like him. Yeah, he got popular really fast, and yeah, it’s not fair. And yeah, he’s probably a dick. I’ll admit that. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t work with him. Use his popularity to your advantage. If Irihata can get you a mission with him, you should do it. Good press.”

“I don’t care about the press.”

“Yeah, you do. You care a lot.” Iwaizumi took another drink and offered the glass to Oikawa, who shook his head. “You can be a great hero, Oikawa. You just haven’t gotten your break yet. This could be it. Valor is on the news all the time, doing interviews about all the good shit he’s done. His merch is everywhere. If people see you with him, they’ll want to know more about you. They’ll be interested. You should do it.”

Oikawa groaned and slouched onto the table. “I hate you, Iwa-chan.”

“No, you’re just mad because I’m right. Do you have a good reason for saying no? Other than not liking him.”

Oikawa pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead. He felt the blue energy just beneath the skin. “I don’t think I can live with myself afterward.”

“I used to think that about you too, and I’m still living with you just fine.” Iwaizumi slapped Oikawa’s shoulder as he stood. “Do it. You know you’re going to, anyway. Accept it now and save yourself some trouble.” He headed toward the bathroom, weaving slightly, and left Oikawa alone with his thoughts.

They weren’t good thoughts. They were thoughts that saw the logic in Iwaizumi’s argument, thoughts that suggested working with Valor really might be a stepping stone for his career.

Oikawa waved down the waitress. He needed to wash those thoughts away, before they took root. He could keep his powers in check after one more drink. That was the least of his problems.

Valor was his biggest one, and he had a feeling it would only get worse. 

  
  
  
  
  


It was a week later when Oikawa arrived at the Shiratorizawa Agency across town, dressed in the new uniform that had been special-ordered to replace the crispy one. It was identical to the original, if a little sturdier. It was the same shades of blue and gray, the same snug fit of leather, the same boots tightly laced up to his calves. 

Those were literally the same, and he only realized as the elevator ascended that months of wear had left them a slightly darker shade than the rest of his uniform. He should’ve scrubbed them down before this meeting.

Then again, putting in that extra effort would have suggested that he cared about the opinion of the man he was about to meet, and he certainly did not.

This place was nicer than the the Seijoh agency, and that made Oikawa’s mood even worse. He didn’t want to have his inferior status rubbed in his face at every turn. He knew he wasn’t as popular as Valor. He didn’t like it, but he knew. Even when he’d given in and agreed to let Irihata talk with Valor’s agent - only to discover that he’d already done so without Oikawa’s permission, which was infuriating - he’d hoped that Valor would refuse to work with someone of Oikawa’s status. That refusal had been Oikawa’s only hope.

When he’d gotten the call that Valor had agreed to team up, that hope had burst like a soap bubble.

Oikawa knocked on the conference room door, as he’d been instructed by the receptionist downstairs. Maybe she’d given him bad directions, and he was at the wrong place. If no one answered, he could leave the agency without guilt, because at least he’d tried.

Unfortunately, a voice from within said, “Enter.”

Oikawa did so, keeping his shoulders back and his head high, despite his distaste. Irihata was there, as well as a man Oikawa knew as Washijou only from Irihata’s past complaints. Valor wasn’t present, and Oikawa relaxed a little.

“Guardian, come in,” said Irihata, waving him toward the table in the middle of the room. It was always strange to hear Irihata use his hero name, but in formal situations like this, it was necessary. Oikawa took the seat at his right, and stared across the table at Washijou, whose face was twisted into a permanent scowl. “We were just wrapping up some minor details.”

“Minor?” scoffed Washijou. “I think payment considerations aren’t minor, Nobuteru.”

Irihata’s eyebrow twitched, but otherwise his composure was unwavering. “I’ve already told you, I’m not trying to make this arrangement to take money out of Valor’s pocket. I’m willing to compromise on salary, but not without a set number. I want it in writing, and I want it today.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you don’t trust me.”

“I don’t trust you at all, Tanji.”

Washijou laughed, dry and crackling. He pushed himself away from the table and stood, his knees popping. “Come on, then. I’ll write up the contract. You’re not getting a set amount, but we’ll agree on a percentage. That good enough for you?”

“I can live with it,” said Irihata. He rose, and Oikawa started to do the same, but Washijou gestured for him to stay.

“Not you,” said Washijou. “These sorts of talks are between agents only. Heroes only complicate things.”

“But I-”

“It’s fine, Oikawa,” said Irihata under his breath. “There’s no arguing with him. Just stay here. I’ll be back once the papers are signed.”

Oikawa frowned, but did as he was told. He was still mad at Irihata for roping him into this, but he couldn’t deny that he trusted his agent to make the best deal for him. Besides, as Irihata had said, he wasn’t in this for the money. It was for publicity only. An extra paycheck would be nice, but it wasn’t the objective.

The agents left the room, and as the door closed behind them, Oikawa was swaddled in silence. The chair squeaked beneath him as he swiveled, taking in the room. There was an area like this at his own agency, but it was smaller, and there wasn’t a coffee maker. Oikawa stood and went to pour himself a cup, mostly just to have something to do. He dumped in too much sugar, realized there was no creamer, and added a little more sugar to compensate. He stood in front of the wide windows that stretched the length of the far wall and stared down at the street, trying not to think about what he was getting himself into.

That became much harder to do when the door opened and the exact thing he was trying not to think about stepped into the room.

Oikawa had seen Valor before, more times than he cared to recall. He was always on the local news, and posters of him were pinned all around the city, stamped with Shiratorizawa’s emergency service number. It was impossible to escape him.

But Oikawa realized, as Valor approached, that he’d never seen him in person.

“Hello,” said Valor. His voice was deep, rolling. “You are Guardian?”

Oikawa felt his lip curling. He took a sip of coffee to mask it. “What was your first clue?”

“My agent advised you would be arriving today,” said Valor. “Also, I recognize you from the news last week, when you battled the fire-maker.”

Valor, one of the top five heroes in Tokyo, recognized him. If Oikawa hadn’t disliked him so much, he may have been pleased. “Right.”

“I am Valor,” he said, as if Oikawa didn’t already know. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Sure,” said Oikawa. He took another drink of coffee and stared out the window. There was a string of schoolchildren passing through the crosswalk, holding hands for safety. 

“My agent said that you and I will be assigned to several missions together,” said Valor. 

“Two.”

“Excuse me?”

“Two missions,” said Oikawa. “That’s what they’re putting in the contract. Only two.”

“That was not the information I received.”

Oikawa’s coffee cup dented and he had to force himself to loosen his grip. He wanted to call Valor a liar, but he wasn’t so sure that was true. Irihata had said two, but that had probably just been in the interest of getting Oikawa to agree at all. He would insist on more, and now that Oikawa would already be under contract, there was nothing he could do about it.

Oikawa should have known that would happen. He was so  _ stupid _ .

“Oh,” said Oikawa flatly. He sipped at his coffee instead of throwing it across the room. “I must have misheard.”

Silence lingered. Valor was looking at him, but Oikawa refused to look back. He hoped that if he ignored him long enough, he’d go away.

“Since we will be working together,” said Valor, “I feel that we should be familiar with one another on a personal level. It will improve our working relationship. My name is Ushijima Wakatoshi. What is yours?”

Oikawa was surprised into glancing at him. He realized Valor was taller than him, which was a little unexpected, and very much irritating. “I keep my work life and my personal life separate. I don’t share my name with anyone.”

He thought Valor would be angry by the refusal; maybe even angry enough to march into Washijou’s office and cancel the contract.

But he only inclined his head and said, “I understand. Do not feel pressured.”

Oikawa was even more annoyed. 

“There is a drug ring, down by the docks,” said Valor. “I had planned to clear it out myself, but Washijou advised that I wait so you could come along. Would you like to go tomorrow night?”

Going anywhere with Valor was the last thing Oikawa wanted to do, but considering he was trapped, he thought getting this over with as quickly as possible would be for the best. “Yeah, sure. Sounds great.”

“Could we meet here at nine?”

“I live on the other side of the city,” said Oikawa. “It’s closer to the docks. We should meet at my agency instead.”

Again he expected Valor to argue, and again he didn’t. “Very well. Can you fly?”

Oikawa’s face scrunched. That was the dumbest question he’d ever been asked. “No, of course I can’t.”

“We can go by car, then. Unless you would be willing to let me-”

“No,” said Oikawa, talking over him. “We’ll take a car. It’s a ten minute drive.”

Valor nodded. “As you wish.”

Oikawa went back to ignoring him. Valor started to say something else - Oikawa heard his intake of breath, felt the shift in his weight as he turned toward him - but Irihata came to the rescue.

“Come on, Guardian,” he said from the doorway. “The paperwork is all done. We can head back.”

“Finally,” mumbled Oikawa. He dropped his coffee cup into the garbage and stepped past Valor, who hadn’t moved.

“I will see you tomorrow night, Guardian,” said Valor.

Oikawa didn’t look back at him. “Yeah, sure. Tomorrow night.” He escaped into the sanctuary of the hallway and picked up a quick pace toward the elevator.

“That went well,” said Irihata pleasantly. “I think this will work out just fine for us.”

Oikawa jammed the down button several times. “For you, maybe. You’re not the one out there doing the real work.”

Irihata knocked Oikawa’s hand away. “Being seen with Valor is a good move for you. You’ll have the highest ratings since you got into the business. It’s good for your career.”

As soon as the doors slid open, Oikawa darted inside and pressed the button for the ground floor. “And bad for my mental health.”

Irihata shook his head. He probably thought Oikawa was being dramatic. He said it often enough. 

Dramatic or not, Oikawa knew the next few missions would be miserable. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

The taxi ride to the docks was the longest 10 minutes of Oikawa’s life.

He and Ushijima effectively filled up the entire backseat. Ushijima was built like a brick wall, and Oikawa wasn’t small, either. It was closer than Oikawa cared to be, even sitting with his leg pressed against the door of the taxi, putting as much space between them as possible. 

When the car rolled to a stop, Oikawa was out immediately, stretching his arms overhead and discreetly watching from the corner of his eye as Ushijima passed over the cab fare. 

Oikawa wasn’t paying it. One of the top five heroes in the city was clearly the more financially capable between them.

When Ushijima exited the car, he moved to stand directly beside Oikawa, staring down the sloping hill at the warehouse perched at the edge of the water. It was dark out, but there were lights on inside, and flickers of motion at the wide door. 

“I can fly down and catch them by surprise,” said Ushijima. Oikawa had stopped mentally thinking of him as  _ Valor. _ Calling him by his real name instead of the contrived one he’d created for public appearances made Ushijima seem more like a human, one that Oikawa could compete with.

“Here’s a better idea,” said Oikawa. “Since we’re supposed to be a  _ team _ , we go together. Isn’t that the point?”

Ushijima’s brows knitted together. “I suppose so. I apologize. I have always done things on my own.”

Oikawa turned his head so Ushijima wouldn’t see his eye roll. “Right. Well how about you lumber in through that big door there, and I’ll slip in through the back and drop them while they’re distracted.” 

Ushijima considered that and nodded. “Alright. If you need assistance, call out, and I will help you.”

Oikawa gritted his teeth. “I don’t need your help.”

“I was only offering. As you said, we are a team.”

Clearly he hadn’t picked up the sarcasm attached to the word when Oikawa had spoken it.

Oikawa started down the hill, hands balled into fists. Ushijima kept up with him easily. 

Oikawa usually worked during daylight hours. Late night patrols were new for him, and he couldn’t deny that Ushijima was dressed more appropriately. Valor’s hero suit was as sturdy as the man himself, stitched in dark shades of red, with black boots and black wristguards. On more formal occasions, which was fortunately not tonight, he sometimes wore a black cape that Oikawa thought was utterly ridiculous. That aside, he blended into the shadows as they crept closer to the warehouse, his jaw set as they surveyed the men through the open door. Several of them stood in a loose cluster, talking and joking, without a care in the world. 

Oikawa would have thought they were normal dock workers, if it hadn’t been for the suspicious lump that each of them shared on one side of their ribs, bulging beneath their t-shirts.

“I believe they are armed,” said Ushijima.

“No shit.” Oikawa crouched a little lower as one of the men turned toward the door to exhale a puff of cigarette smoke. “I’ll circle around back. Wait two minutes exactly and then go in.”

“Alright,” said Ushijima. “Be safe.”

Oikawa wanted to snap at him, but kept his complaints to himself and slinked off toward the side of the warehouse. He kept close to the building for cover, paused at the corner to listen for voices, and continued when he heard none. The salty air blowing in from the water was cool, and Oikawa savored the taste of it. There was a large loading gate that was sealed tight. Beside it was a locked door, and Oikawa pressed a hand against it as he waited.

He counted the passing seconds in his head. If Ushijima was prompt and did as Oikawa said, he would make an appearance in three, two, one…

A sudden spatter of gunfire erupted from inside the building. Oikawa took a step back and slammed his heel into the door. The lock snapped, and he flung up a glowing shield as he rushed inside. 

Three men were nearby. They’d clearly been moving toward the front of the building, and were startled by Oikawa’s appearance. By the time they’d shrugged off that surprise, Oikawa had already dropped one of them and was swinging at another. His knuckles throbbed as they smashed into the man’s jaw, but he hardly noticed as he whipped up his shield and deflected a few desperate gunshots. Oikawa waited until the firearm clicked dry, then swooped in to hook a forearm around the man’s neck and stepped behind him. He applied pressure until the man went limp, and let him him collapse.

Oikawa thought top hero missions like this should be more challenging.

He took out another few men as he made his way through the warehouse, and they never even saw him coming. By the time he reached the front, where Ushijima stood in a circle of fallen gunmen, Oikawa was almost bored.

“Is that it?” said Oikawa, folding his arms and surveying the wreckage. “I expected more.”

Ushijima made a low sound. His suit was riddled with bullet holes, but the man himself was untouched. His hair was a little windswept, but that was the only indication he’d even been in a fight. “I believe there are more. It is too empty here. The shipment may have already left.” He frowned at Oikawa, and his eyes darted to the side. “Guardian, watch out for-”

Oikawa raised a shield with a flick of his wrist, deflecting a spray of bullets without looking away from Ushijima. He’d noticed the man creeping closer. He’d only wondered how long it would take Ushijima to see him.

Oikawa took two long strides, pivoted, and slammed a fist into the man’s temple. He dropped, immediately unconscious. 

Oikawa paced back toward Ushijima, arms folded. “You were saying?”

Ushijima stared, and finally repeated, “I believe they may have already sent out the shipment. By boat, I would assume, considering our location.”

“Okay then. The police can bring one of their speedboats over and they can find-”

“There isn’t time,” said Ushijima. He stepped past Oikawa toward the back of the warehouse, dodging Oikawa’s unfortunate victims along his way. Oikawa followed, and wondered if there was any possible way that he could weasel his way out of this contract early.

Ushijima passed through the back door that Oikawa had kicked in and stood at the dock, staring out at the water. “I will fly out and see if I can locate anything suspicious. It is the fastest way.”

Oikawa didn’t bother to hide his eye roll this time. “Great. I guess I’ll just stand here and wait for you.”

Apparently Ushijima didn’t catch the sarcasm. He said “Alright” and took off, the force of it ruffling Oikawa’s hair. He watched as Ushijima sped over the water, quickly disappearing into the darkness.

Oikawa huffed and sat on the edge of the dock, boots hanging over the water. He leaned back on his hands and stared up at the sky, fighting back a familiar lurch of disappointment. 

He hadn’t felt it in a while. He’d come to terms with the powers he had, with the way he’d been born. There was no way to change it, and he’d been luckier than many.

But seeing someone like Ushijima, who had the best powers by chance alone, made him remember his younger years when inadequacy had haunted him.

Of course he wasn’t as popular as Ushijima. He would never be, without those kinds of flashy powers. Irihata was wasting his time trying. 

Oikawa sighed and laid back, arms pillowed behind his head. He exhaled a salty breath, and with it, shed the doubts that clung to him like black sludge. 

He wasn’t a kid anymore. He couldn’t let himself think that way; mostly because if he did, it meant Ushijima was truly better than him. 

And he wasn’t. He couldn’t be. Ushijima was just a block of muscle who’d happened to be born with conveniently heroic powers. He’d done nothing to earn them. His natural abilities didn’t make him any better than Oikawa, who’d expended years of effort to get where he was. They weren’t comparable. 

Oikawa was doing just fine, and he was just as good as Ushijima Wakatoshi. 

  
  
  
  
  


The next day, the drug bust made the news.

Except the aired video clip was taken by a crew of fishermen, who’d witnessed Ushijima swooping down and stopping the boat loaded down with drugs. Oikawa had still been back at the docks, and he wasn’t mentioned at all.

“I’m done,” said Oikawa, his voice snapping. “I’m not working with him anymore, Irihata. I don’t care about the contract. Break it,  _ burn  _ it, whatever you need to do. I’m  _ done _ .” 

“It’s not that easy and you know it,” said Irihata. He was always unfailingly calm. It was infuriating. “You agreed to this, Oikawa.”

Oikawa barely stopped himself from launching his phone across the room. Instead, he gripped it more tightly and said, “No, you  _ made  _ me agree to this. I didn’t want to. You know I didn’t.”

“It’s a good career move for you.”

“How is that? It doesn’t look like it’s doing my career much good, does it?”

“Give it time,” said Irihata. “Just go on your scheduled patrol tomorrow. People will see the two of you together. It will work.”

“I don’t want to be seen with him,” said Oikawa. “If I never see him again, it will be too soon.”

“I’m getting another call, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

The call ended before Oikawa could protest.

He threw his phone, and it landed harmlessly on his bed. Oikawa followed it shortly after, collapsing into his pillow with a groan. He briefly considered suffocating himself, just so he wouldn’t have to do the patrol. 

“You’re being dramatic,” said Iwaizumi from the couch, where he was lounging with his feet propped on Oikawa’s coffee table. “As usual. So what if you didn’t make the news for that? You never make the news anyway. It’s not like anything changed.”

“You’re the worst,” said Oikawa, his voice muffled. “That’s the least motivational thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I’m not trying to motivate you,” said Iwaizumi. He flipped through a few tv channels, not looking at Oikawa. “I’m trying to tell you how stupid it is to mope over something like this.”

“I’m not moping.”

“Sure you’re not,” scoffed Iwaizumi. “Either way, suck it up. You’re stuck with Valor whether you like it or not. It won’t kill you.”

“You don’t know that,” said Oikawa. “It might.”

“If it does, my life will be a whole lot quieter. I can’t wait.”

“Rude.”

“You’ll be fine. He’s not that bad. You said he was nice to you, right?”

“In a self-important, arrogant sort of way,” said Oikawa. He rolled onto his side and scowled at Iwaizumi. That was one benefit of having a small studio apartment, he supposed. No one could escape his scowls. “He thinks he’s the best hero ever born. Just because he can fly, and get shot a thousand times. That doesn’t make him better than me.”

“Did he say he’s better than you?”

“He didn’t have to say it. He was thinking it.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re a bully.”

Iwaizumi didn’t snap a comeback, and Oikawa was disappointed. A good-natured brawl with Iwaizumi was always a good stress-reliever. 

“It’s only two missions, right?” said Iwaizumi. He chose a channel and settled in to watch a group of contestants race their way through an obstacle course. The first one had superhuman speed and was nothing more than a blur. “You can deal with him for one more patrol.”

“Four.”

“What?”

“Irihata worked five missions into the contract.” Oikawa reconsidered smothering himself. It would be a kindness. “Tomorrow’s patrol, and then three more of…  _ something _ .”

“Sucks for you.”

Maybe Oikawa should find a more supportive friend. “What about you? I’m sure you were miserable without me yesterday.”

“I stopped a school bus full of kids from crashing and caught a guy who stole a dozen diamonds from the jewelry store downtown. I think I’m doing okay.”

Oikawa sighed. “I helped stop that dangerous drug ring, but no one knows I was there, so it doesn’t count.”

“Can’t you just be happy knowing you did something good?”

“No.”

Iwaizumi said nothing, but Oikawa hadn’t expected him to. Iwaizumi had a high tolerance for Oikawa’s whining, but even he tired of it after a while.

Oikawa understood. To anyone else, it would look as if he was complaining for no real reason. He’d helped make his city safer. Just because it hadn’t been aired on the news didn’t mean it didn’t happen. He was still being a hero.

But was a hero really a hero if no one knew them?

“I’ll just have to be better than him,” said Oikawa, scowling at the ceiling. “I’ll be so much better than no one will even realize he’s there. We’ll see how he feels, when he’s the one being ignored.”

“Right,” said Iwaizumi. His tone suggested he’d stopped listening. “You do that.”

“I will.” Oikawa rolled out of bed and took the four steps across the room to sit on the couch beside Iwaizumi. He stared at the tv blankly, thinking instead about tomorrow’s patrol, and what he could do to outshine Valor. 

  
  
  
  
  


As it turned out, Ushijima was not a man who could be easily outshone.

“Valor, Valor!” A small cluster of children had gathered around, waving notebooks over their heads. “Can we have an autograph? Please, please,  _ please _ ?”

“Of course,” said Ushijima. He dropped to one knee and accepted a notebook, to the delight of a tiny girl with pigtails.

Oikawa rolled his eyes and leaned against the nearest building, waiting for this herd to move on. It was the third time this had happened since they’d started their patrol two hours ago. Oikawa wondered how Ushijima ever got anything done, if he was swarmed like this all the time. It seemed annoying.

Oikawa was not jealous.

A small boy wandered over, fresh autograph in hand. He blinked up at Oikawa with big eyes and said, “Are you a hero, too?”

“I guess that depends on who you ask,” said Oikawa. It came out more bitter than he’d intended.

The boy considered him. His eyes were too big, an unnatural shade of rose. “Can you fly?”

Oikawa bit his tongue to keep from saying the first thing that came to mind. He took a breath, reined himself in, and said, “No, I can’t.”

The boy nodded wisely. “Me either. My mom says maybe I will someday, but I think she’s only saying that so I won’t be sad.”

“Why would you be sad?”

The boy frowned, his lip poking out as he looked back at Ushijima, who was still surrounded. “I want to be a hero, too.”

Oikawa sighed and dropped into a crouch, putting himself at the boy’s height. “You don’t have to fly to be a hero, you know.”

“But Valor-”

“Isn’t the only hero,” said Oikawa. “Do you know Shockwave, from Osaka?” The boy nodded. “And Sakurajima, and Torrent, and Seismo?” More nods. “None of them can fly. They’re still great heroes, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” said the boy, his wide eyes going even wider. “They’re amazing.”

“Then you can be, too,” said Oikawa. “It doesn’t matter what your powers are. What matters is how you use them. Got it?”

The boy smiled. His grin was too wide for his face, and it was full of teeth curved like a shark’s. “Can I have your autograph, Mr. Hero?”

“Guardian.” Oikawa took the boy’s notebook with a slight smile. He flipped past Ushijima’s signature and printed his own across a fresh page. He wrote his hero name, but as he handed it back, he said, “You can call me Oikawa, though. Don’t tell anyone.”

The boy nodded furiously and rushed back to his friends, the notebook clutched against his chest like a treasure.

Oikawa watched him go, vaguely pleased, until he realized the group of children was now lacking one large hero. He regained his feet and realized Ushijima had wandered over while he’d been distracted.

“That was a nice thing to say,” said Ushijima.

“There’s nothing nice about it. It’s the truth.” Oikawa dusted himself off and started down the sidewalk, in the direction they’d been heading before the interception.

“I suppose it is,” said Ushijima. A moment passed, and he said, almost to himself, “Oikawa.”

Oikawa turned on him, eyes narrow. “Don’t use my name.”

“I am surprised you revealed it. You said before that you do not mix your personal life with your career.”

“I don’t,” said Oikawa. “I was just trying to make the kid happy, okay? Forget about it.”

“Alright.”

Oikawa turned and started walking again, his steps more of a stomp. Ushijima kept pace with him easily. 

“We have been walking for a while,” said Ushijima, when some time had passed. “Would you like to take a break?”

“I don’t need a break. This isn’t my first patrol.”

“I am aware. I just thought it would be refreshing, considering the heat.”

Oikawa stopped. “If you needed a break, you only had to say so, Ushiwaka.”

“I did not-”

“Where do you want to stop for your break?” said Oikawa, before he could finish.

The two of them ended up in a little shop on the corner, Oikawa sipping at chilled boba milk and Ushijima staring passively out the large glass windows. The edge of silence between them wasn’t quite comfortable. Oikawa wondered if that was just his perception, or if Ushijima felt it too.

He hoped so. If he was uncomfortable, he certainly wanted Ushijima to feel the same way.

“It is unseasonably warm,” said Ushijima.

Oikawa propped his chin in his hand and stared at the people passing beyond the window. Still, he felt Ushijima watching him. “I guess so.”

“Have you always lived in Tokyo?”

“No.”

“I am not from here, either.”

Oikawa almost said  _ I didn’t ask _ , but kept the remark to himself.

“I was surprised,” said Ushijima, “when Washijou-san said your agent contacted him regarding a team-up.”

Oikawa’s lip curled. He kept his stare out the window, because he thought if he looked directly at Ushijima, he wouldn’t be able to keep his temper in check. “I’m so sorry for the inconvenience, Ushiwaka.” He took another sip of boba. It would have been sweet, in better company. Now he was so irritated that he couldn’t enjoy it. “Guess you should’ve just said no.”

There was silence, aside from the low background bustle of the shop. Oikawa thought Ushijima had finally ran out of words. He didn’t seem to have very many to begin with.

Unfortunately, his conversational threshold hadn’t yet been reached. “Oikawa, I did not-”

“I  _ said _ ,” snapped Oikawa, slicing a glare at him, “don’t use my name.”

Ushijima inclined his head. “I apologize. Guardian, I did not mean-”

** _BANG_ ** .

The entire building shook, a tremor that rattled the glasses behind the counter. Oikawa felt the shock of it down to his bones. He was on his feet immediately, one hand on the wall for balance, face nearly pressed against the window in his haste to see outside. 

A shimmer of smoke painted the horizon, swirling in a sluggish stratosphere.

Oikawa swung away from the windows and sprinted for the door. Ushijima was right beside him, and Oikawa gathered speed to pull ahead. He burst onto the sidewalk and paused, head tilted back, watching the rising smoke. It was impossible to tell how far away the explosion had been. A few blocks, maybe more? He didn’t know if it would be faster to run or flag down a car. He didn’t have much time to think it through. An explosion of that scale could have victims, people trapped beneath wreckage, desperate for help-

Ushijima extended a hand. “Let us go.”

Oikawa looked from the large hand up to Ushijima’s face. It took him two long seconds to realize what he meant. “No.”

“Guardian-”

“I said no.”

“We must get there immediately,” said Ushijima. “I will not let you fall.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“It is your choice,” said Ushijima. He let his hand fall to his side. “I will go with or without you, but we will be of more help together.”

Oikawa almost snapped  _ go without me then _ , but hesitated. He needed to be at the scene of the explosion. If he let Ushijima go on his own, Oikawa would be outshone again, and it would be as if he didn’t exist at all. 

He had to do this, even if it meant sacrificing his pride and accepting Ushijima’s help.

“Fine,” he said. He spoke through his teeth, because he had to force the words out. “ _ Fine. _ If you drop me I’ll break your neck.”

“As I said, I will not.”

Oikawa believed him. He didn’t want to, but he did. It was impossible to doubt a promise spoken so earnestly. 

He stepped up behind Ushijima, took a bracing breath, and laced his arms around the thick neck he’d threatened to break. Ushijima was solid, sturdy. Oikawa wasn’t certain he could’ve broken anything about him.

“Hold on tightly,” said Ushijima. He layered a hand overtop of Oikawa’s forearm. “As tightly as you can. You will not hurt me.”

Oikawa hadn’t been worried about that. His primary concern was trying to decide how to hold onto Ushijima while still keeping as much distance as possible between them.

Ushijima drifted a few centimeters off the ground, hovering, and Oikawa forgot all about that. He seized Ushijima more securely, his legs swinging forward for balance. Ushijima caught them, his hands firm beneath Oikawa’s knees. Oikawa would’ve felt like a fool, if he’d been given time to think about it.

He wasn’t.

Ushijima shot into the sky so quickly that Oikawa’s gut swooped, his muscles clenching tighter. They reached a peak and Ushijima stopped, floating just above the tallest building, surveying the city at an angle Oikawa had never seen. For a moment it was all crystal clear; the splash of reflecting sunlight against high windows, the rolling landscape beyond the edge of the city, the flicker of the wind in his hair. Ushijima was strong beneath him, devoid of strain, completely solid. Oikawa felt certain that if he fell, if he plummeted out of the sky like a falling star, Ushijima would catch him before he hit the ground.

Oikawa was amazed, breathless.

Ushijima swooped toward the coils of smoke, and Oikawa hid his face against a broad shoulder, gritting his teeth against the cartwheeling of his stomach.

They touched down in front of a factory at the edge of town; at least, it had been a factory until several minutes before. Now it was a heap of smoking rubble, steel beams emerging like the rib bones of some great beast. Several men were on the ground, coughing and groaning. Oikawa thought they’d probably been outside and had been knocked off their feet by the blast. 

They were the lucky ones.

Ushijima landed with perfect poise, and Oikawa unhooked his limbs to slide to the ground. He stumbled and would have fallen if Ushijima hadn’t reached out to steady him.

“Are you alright?” asked Ushijima.

“I’m fine.” He didn’t quite mean it.

“We must act quickly. There will be survivors.”

“Right,” said Oikawa. Despite his dizziness, he started toward the front of the factory, where the door had mostly collapsed. He staggered to the side, shook his head, and started forward again, more steadily. Ushijima took off again, so quickly that he was almost a blur. He must have reduced his speed for Oikawa’s benefit. Typically Oikawa would have been angry, but he was so shaky now that he would’ve likely been on the ground if Ushijima had gone any faster.

He ducked through the sagging doorway, into oppressive heat and smoggy air. He flicked his wrist and surrounded himself in a glowing shield, keeping out the worst of the smoke. He sifted through the debris, looking for people, and found them more quickly than expected. There were three of them just inside the door, trapped beneath a fallen beam. Oikawa planted his feet and braced a shoulder against it, struggling against the weight, shifting it just far enough for the men to wriggle beneath and stagger for the exit. When they were clear, Oikawa released the weight with a huff, pulled the energy shield more closely around himself, and plowed forward again. 

Men were scattered about the ruined factory. Some of them were unscathed, and only needed guidance to the door. Others weren’t so lucky, and after failing to find a pulse, Oikawa left them in pursuit of those he could still help. Minutes dragged into an hour, and then longer. More heroes arrived, some of them converging to help in the search and rescue, others manning the perimeter to keep anyone else out. It was a long, dragging day, and by the time Oikawa reached the center of the factory, certain that he’d cleared his section of it, dusk was creeping onto the horizon. He knew, because half of the ceiling had fallen in, leaving the sky exposed. The smoke was the most severe at the eastern side of the building, and the open ceiling had allowed this part of it to air out. Still, the air was smoggy enough to have Ushijima coughing into his hand as he approached, soot-smeared and damp with sweat.

“I think we got them all,” said Oikawa. There was a rustling somewhere close, paired with low voices. It was a trio of heroes he’d passed on his way, who’d been tasked with collecting the people they’d been unable to save. 

“Yes,” said Ushijima. He coughed again, shoulders hunching with the force of it. “I believe we did.”

Oikawa raised a hand and expanded his shield, the glow of it swelling to encompass Ushijima. Ushijima blinked, curious, and took a deep breath. The corner of his mouth turned upward into something that was almost a smile. “Thank you, Guardian.”

Oikawa waved him off. “Yeah, whatever. Have you heard anything about the cause of the explosion?”

“Malfunctioning equipment is the best guess,” said Ushijima. “There does not appear to be any malicious intent.”

Oikawa nodded. This was still a tragedy, but at least it wasn’t a man-made one. If villains had been involved, this situation would have been twice as bad. “Let’s get out of here and let the clean up crew handle the rest. I’m exhausted.”

“After you,” said Ushijima, gesturing toward the twist of distorted metal through which they’d carved a path to the door. 

Oikawa waited for Ushijima to take another breath of clean air before he dropped the shield. He kept it around himself, but tightly, contoured to his body instead of in a sphere. Traveling through the narrow spaces would be impossible with a full shield.

They made it halfway to the exit without incident. Oikawa wasn’t paying much attention to his surroundings. He wondered if Iwaizumi was outside somewhere, helping with crowd control. He thought of the hot shower that was waiting for him at his apartment. He thought of a lot of things, just to keep his mind off of the bloodstains they passed along the way.

If he’d been more tuned into his surroundings, he may have had time to react.

There was a screeching overhead, a harrowing scream of metal against metal.

Oikawa whirled around just as the entire ceiling gave way. 

Ushijima craned his head back, looking up at the collapsing steel. Oikawa’s shield flickered, hardened. He reached for Ushijima, but he wasn’t fast enough.

The debris crashed in a heap, burying Ushijima beneath.

“Shit,” hissed Oikawa, moving before the ceiling had stopped falling. Pieces of it bounced off of his shield, spiraling harmlessly away. He stumbled over a piece of smoldering machinery and yanked at a misshapen beam, trying to peel it away. It was heavy, and Oikawa strained, teeth gritted and muscles screaming.

It gave, and Oikawa shoved it to the side, just as the rest of the rubble shifted. 

Ushijima emerged from the midst of it, pushing steel beams aside as if they were weightless. He stood tall and strong, short of breath but wholly uninjured. The shoulder of his uniform was ripped down to his elbow, but where a jagged cut should have been, there was only unmarked skin.

“Oikawa,” he said, dredging through the debris as if he was walking through the tide. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m… Yeah.” Oikawa exhaled, and so much tension rolled off of him that he almost collapsed. He couldn’t let Ushijima die on his watch. That would affect his reputation for the rest of his life. He’d never be a top hero after that.

“I will get us out of here, before the rest of the building falls,” said Ushijima. He offered a hand, just as he’d done earlier. 

Oikawa considered him, and almost agreed. But he thought of the people waiting outside the factory, the civilians and reporters and their fellow heroes. “Do what you want, but I’m perfectly capable of walking.” He turned and started on their path again, dodging the extra litter of machinery that had fallen with the ceiling. 

He expected Ushijima to take off, to emerge from the destruction with a flourish. But behind him, Ushijima said, quietly, “Alright then. I am with you.”

Oikawa expected to be annoyed by that, but he wasn’t. He thought he was too tired to feel much of anything.

They emerged into the cooling night air with a sense of relief. When they left the shadow of the building Oikawa let his shield drop, and with it, a whole new sense of exhaustion weighed him down. He wanted to go home, to curl up in bed and sleep for a solid week.

But there was a crowd of people, pressed close to the perimeter that had been staked out around the factory. Heroes were scattered here and there, keeping the onlookers under control. When Oikawa and Ushijima emerged, a cheer went up, trickling through the crowd until everyone was calling out to them. Reporters were sprinkled among them, speaking into phones or wielding cameras. Most of the people were shouting  _ Valor _ , but beneath that, Oikawa heard heartfelt cries that carried across the distance, voices in the shape of  _ Guardian _ .

Ushijima squeezed Oikawa’s shoulder. “If you would like to make an escape, I can fly you away.”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes, prepared to snap, but the minuscule twitch of Ushijima’s mouth suggested he was joking. Oikawa huffed and shook his head, stepping away from Ushijima’s hand. “I’ll suffer through it. Come on, Ushiwaka.”

Ushijima followed along after him, and together they faced the crowd. 

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

“Oh! This is the best one!” Oikawa lunged across the couch and snatched the remote from Iwaizumi’s hand. He cranked up the volume and sat back with his legs folded, wide eyes on the television. “Look how good my hair is, Iwa-chan. Even after  _ hours _ of saving lives.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, but settled in to watch the interview.

It was the day after the factory debacle, and every news station was plastered with footage and interviews from the event. Some stations focused on the cause of the damage, which had indeed been deemed an accident. Other stations provided information about those who’d been victims of the explosion, and broadcasted talks with the families left behind. 

Most stations, though, aired footage about the heroes who’d been on-scene.

“ _ It’s tragic that this happened _ ,” said Oikawa on the tv, against a background of rubble and smoke. “ _ The worst part of being a hero is having to see things like this. But we saved as many people as we could, and that’s what matters. _ ”

The camera cut back to a reporter at the news station. “ _ That was Guardian, speaking with our crew last night. He was one of the first heroes on scene, and saved a number of people from the collapsing building, including-” _

“Your best friend is famous,” said Oikawa, lounging back with his arms behind his head. “Lucky you.”

Iwaizumi swatted him with a decorative pillow. “No, he’s just a moron.”

“Sounds like someone’s jealous.”

“Jealous of what?” scoffed Iwaizumi. “I don’t want to be a moron.”

Oikawa opened his mouth to argue, but a familiar voice from the television caught his attention.

_ “It is fortunate that we arrived so quickly. _ ” Ushijima was on the screen, haloed in the flickering remnants of the factory fire. He was equally as expressionless on camera as he was in person.  _ “I am grateful that Guardian and I were on a joint patrol at the time of the explosion. Together, we saved more people than either of us could have done alone. We make a good team. He is a good hero.” _

Oikawa’s face scrunched like he’d tasted something sour. He killed the volume and tossed the remote aside, scowling at the now-silent Ushijima. “What a jerk.”

“That was literally a compliment, you ass.” Iwaizumi kicked him, just hard enough to sting. “One of the top heroes in the city is talking about how good you are.”

“He doesn’t mean it,” said Oikawa, sinking further into the couch. “He told me just before the explosion that he was surprised I even asked for a team-up. He thinks he’s better than me.”

This time when Iwaizumi kicked him, Oikawa’s flailing barely kept him from rolling into the floor. “You’re an absolute fucking idiot, Oikawa.”

“And you’re a huge bully!” Oikawa snapped back, backpedaling to the extreme end of the couch, away from Iwaizumi. “I don’t know why I’m even friends with you!”

“Because no one else will put up with your bullshit,” said Iwaizumi. He grabbed the remote from where it had fallen in the floor and turned the volume back on. The coverage had gone back to the news station, where the anchors were discussing potential plans to rebuild the factory with extra safety standards. “Valor isn’t that bad. He’s a good hero, and he’s saying all kinds of nice shit about you on tv. That’s the point of this, right? Your name is all over the news. It’s what you wanted. You have no room to complain, Shittykawa.”

Oikawa cringed. Iwaizumi hadn’t called him that since high school. “I just don’t like him, okay? I’m allowed to not like someone.”

“Whatever. You’ve always acted like a child. Why would you stop now?”

Oikawa sputtered over an insulted reply, but the blare of his phone cut him off. He leaned over the arm of the couch to reach for it, expecting to see Irihata’s name flashing across the screen.

Instead it was one that he’d grudgingly added to his contacts several days before.

Oikawa stared at it, blankly, and looked at Iwaizumi, their argument suddenly forgotten. “It’s Ushiwaka.”

“Answer it.”

“I don’t have anything to say to him!” said Oikawa. He pushed the phone into Iwaizumi’s hand. “Here. You answer it.”

“And say what?”

“I don’t know! Just answer it!”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, but did as Oikawa said. He took the phone, accepted the call, and shoved it right back at Oikawa.

Oikawa fumbled it, gave Iwaizumi a scathing look, and answered with a resentful, “Hello?”

“Is this Guardian?”

Oikawa rolled his eyes. “Who else would it be?”

“Ah. I was only confirming. This is Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

Oikawa gave Iwaizumi a dead look and hoped it conveyed his absolute exasperation. Iwaizumi only smirked. “I know who you are,” said Oikawa. “What do you want?”

Ushijima was unbothered by the brashness. “Washijou-san informed me that you and I will be on patrol together this evening.”

“Yeah, I heard,” said Oikawa. Irihata had sent him a text about it, explaining that it was a good idea to keep him in the public eye as much as possible while he was riding this sudden wave of popularity. “What about it?”

“Would you like to meet early, and have dinner before our patrol shift begins?” asked Ushijima. “So we will have plenty of energy, should a crisis arise.”

Oikawa’s lip curled. “Thanks for the offer, Ushiwaka, but I already have dinner plans with my very rude friend. I don’t want to cancel and hurt his feelings.” He dodged the kick Iwaizumi threw in his direction, nimbly hopping off of the couch and pacing the three strides to the small kitchen.

“Ah. I understand.” Ushijima was quiet for a moment. “I suppose I will meet you at the agreed time, then.”

“I’ll be there.”  _ Unfortunately. _

“Alright. Goodbye, Guardian.”

Oikawa ended the call and propped a hip against the kitchen counter. “He asked me to go to dinner. Can you believe him?”

“What a dick,” said Iwaizumi flatly. “How dare he.” 

“Right? He’s terrible.” Oikawa deftly sidestepped the decorative pillow that sailed toward him.

“What’s terrible is how easy you lie,” said Iwaizumi. “We’re not having dinner tonight.”

Oikawa shrugged. “He doesn’t know that.”

“You’re the one who’s a dick. I feel bad for Valor, having to put up with you.”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes. “You take that back.”

“Never.”

“You haven’t been out on patrol with him,” said Oikawa, folding his arms. “You don’t know what he’s like.”

“Yeah, but I know what you’re like. That’s all I need to know.”

“If you’re not careful, I’ll cancel our dinner plans,” said Oikawa. 

“We don’t  _ have _ dinner plans.”

“We do now.” Oikawa gravitated back toward the couch. A repeat of his interview was playing, and he dropped onto the far cushion to watch. “We’ll go to that tofu place you like. Then I won’t be lying to Ushiwaka, after all.”

“As if you care.”

“No, but you do. How about it?”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and sat back with a huff. “Fine. But you’re not allowed to complain about Valor the whole time.”

“Deal.”

  
  
  
  
  


During their dinner together, Oikawa complained about Valor the whole time. Iwaizumi didn’t seem surprised. 

When they finished the meal, Oikawa began walking toward Ushijima’s agency, wondering what fresh misery awaited him on that evening’s patrol. He supposed it could be worse. If he survived the night, he only had to meet up with Ushijima twice more before their contract was over. That wasn’t terrible. He just had to get through three more shifts with him and he was free.

Just three more shifts.

“Are we even going to work tonight?” asked Oikawa, when they’d been ambushed for autographs for the fifth time, two hours into their shift. “Looks like you’re too busy with your adoring fans.”

“There is nothing wrong with interacting with the public on a slow night,” said Ushijima. He gave a final goodbye to a pair of children who’d been ecstatic to see him before setting off, Oikawa matching his stride. “Unless I am mistaken, many of them were your fans, too.”

Oikawa scowled, but said nothing. It was somewhat true. Ushijima had been the main focus of the swarms, but Oikawa hadn’t been left out by any means. They’d known his name, and had asked for his autograph alongside Valor’s. 

He was a little pleased, but he refused to admit that to Ushijima.

“How was your dinner with Cannon?” asked Ushijima, as they paused to wait at the crosswalk. 

Oikawa slid a sideways glance at him. “I never said I was with Cannon.”

“I only assumed,” said Ushijima. He stepped into the street as the light changed, and Oikawa belatedly followed. “Forgive me. I suppose it is none of my business.”

Oikawa’s first instinct was to snap  _ No, it’s not _ . But that was a little too harsh, even for him. Ushijima didn’t seem as if he was prying, only making conversation. If they were stuck together anyway, he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to at least talk. 

“I was with Cannon,” said Oikawa. “We ate at this tofu place a few blocks over. He only likes about six restaurants in town. He’s picky about food. He usually prefers to make it himself.”

Ushijima hummed, thoughtful. “I typically cook for myself, as well. I am too easily recognized when I am in public, even when I wear regular clothing. It is sometimes tiring.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes. Of course Ushijima would complain about being  _ too _ popular, when Oikawa was still struggling to be recognized. If only Iwaizumi was around, he would understand why Oikawa was always so annoyed with Ushijima.

“What about you?” asked Ushijima, when a minute had passed. 

“There’s not much room in my apartment for cooking,” said Oikawa. “It’s easier to just pick something up. The only home cooked food I get is when Iwaizumi brings me leftovers.”

“Iwaizumi?” asked Ushijima, curious.

“Cannon,” corrected Oikawa. He silently cursed himself for making that mistake. “Forget I said that.”

“Consider it forgotten.” 

They stepped through another crosswalk, this time heading east. No calls had come in that night, so there was no destination in mind. They were wandering aimlessly, waiting for something to happen. Oikawa was torn between wishing they would get a call, and hoping it would stay quiet. No calls meant he would get no publicity, but it also meant the city was safe for the night. After the factory incident, the people needed a night without tragedy. 

“You and Cannon appear to be close,” said Ushijima. “You have worked together for a long time.”

Oikawa glanced at him. “We grew up together. Working as a team just made sense.”

"It was a good decision. You have done good things together.”

Oikawa squinted. He didn’t know what Ushijima was talking about. He and Iwaizumi had rarely made the news, and when they had, it was only in brief mentions. It was extremely unlikely that Ushijima had ever heard of either of them, before the contract. He was surprised that Ushijima even knew who Iwaizumi was.

“I feel,” said Ushijima, “that you and I make a suitable team, as well. You were quite competent during the recovery efforts last night. I was impressed.”

“Yeah, well, I do live my life to impress you,” said Oikawa, sarcasm dripping from his voice like acid.

Ushijima’s steps slowed as he frowned. He seemed to be thinking through what Oikawa had said. Oikawa wasn’t worried. Ushijima had never caught onto his sarcasm before.

It seemed this time was different.

Ushijima drew to a stop, just past the ring of light from a nearby streetlamp. His face was in shadow as he said, “I was attempting to compliment you. If I have somehow insulted you, I apologize. It was not my intention.”

Oikawa wanted to stay bitter, but even he couldn’t deny Ushijima’s sincerity. He pushed his hair back with a sigh, staring across the street instead of at Ushijima. “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry about it.”

“I have been told,” said Ushijima, “that I often seem brash. I do not mean to be that way. If I have ever given you that impression, I apologize for that, as well.”

Oikawa chewed at the inside of his cheek. He didn’t like this. Ushijima was making it much harder to hate him. “I said don’t worry about it.”

“I do not wish for you to have a negative perception of me.”

“Why do you care what I think?” said Oikawa, frustration making him warm. “After tonight, we only have two more patrols left. You’ll never have to work with me again. It shouldn’t matter to you.” 

Ushijima tipped his head to one side. “We will no longer be contractually obligated, but I had hoped that teaming up in the future would remain a possibility.”

Oikawa stared at him. “Why?”

“You are a good hero,” said Ushijima. “I enjoy working with good heroes.”

Oikawa couldn’t think of a single thing to say to that, so he didn’t. 

Apparently Ushijima interpreted that as permission to continue talking.

“We have only worked together on two occasions, but it has been enough to know how capable you are,” he said. “You are a good strategist. Your shield power is uniquely useful, and your strength power is an asset.”

The compliments bundled into that statement were ignored. Oikawa was fixated only on one thing. “My strength power?”

His tone made Ushijima frown. “Yes.”

Oikawa tried to keep his voice composed. It didn’t quite work. “Who told you I have that?”

Ushijma eyed him, clearly confused by Oikawa’s tone. “I did not have to be told. It was a personal observation. When we were at the factory last night, your strength made you capable of moving large objects to aid in the rescue efforts.”

“I don’t have a strength power,” spat Oikawa. He felt his face getting warm, a flush of indignation. “I’m strong because I’ve made myself strong.” He slapped his own chest. “This is all me. I’ve worked my ass off to get here, and don’t you dare think it’s just because of my powers.” He turned on his heel and stomped down the street, hoping Ushijima wouldn’t follow. Oikawa didn’t have anything more to say to him. He’d never been so insulted in his life.

He knew that many heroes were born with super strength. It was one of the more common powers floating around, although rarely was it potent enough to put those heroes on the map unless they had other flashy abilities to go along with it. 

It was somewhat common, but Oikawa hadn’t been gifted with it. Of course he hadn’t. His life couldn’t have been so easy.

“Oikawa, wait.”

Oikawa spun back, venom on his tongue, but Ushijima corrected himself before Oikawa could snap at him.

“Guardian,” said Ushijima. He scuffed to a stop a pace away from Oikawa. “I apologize. I did not mean to insult you. I was unaware.”

“Of course you were,” said Oikawa. “You just assume anyone who’s strong must’ve been born that way, the same as you. It didn’t even cross your mind that some of us have to work for what we have.”

Ushijima inclined his head. “You are right. I was not thinking.”

“Obviously.” Oikawa wanted to say something else, something sharper, but the regretful crease of Ushijima’s brow made him pause. He shouldn’t care. Ushijima had been the one to make assumptions about him, not the other way around. He should take the opportunity to put the arrogant hero in his place.

Except calling Ushijima arrogant was an assumption too; one that he’d made a long time ago, and one that wasn’t as accurate as he’d initially thought. 

Oikawa sighed. Against his better judgment, he said, “It’s fine, Ushiwaka. Everyone underestimates me. I should be used to it by now.”

“I did not mean-”

“I know you didn’t,” said Oikawa, cutting Ushijima short before he wasted his breath on another apology. “I get it. It’s fine. Move on.”

Ushijima nodded, solemn. “Thank you, Guardian.”

“Yeah, sure.” Oikawa waved him off, a little uncomfortable with the gratitude. “C’mon, let’s go find something heroic to do.”

  
  
  
  
  


That evening on patrol was mostly a waste, as far as earning public attention was concerned. There were a few more instances of fans asking for autographs or pictures, and that was all that the pair found to do for the rest of the night. Oikawa was only mildly disappointed by the lack of potential publicity. He was still exhausted from the night before, and when he made it home after their shift, he fell asleep on the couch in full uniform. 

Before they’d parted ways, Ushijima had suggested that they meet up for their next joint patrol on Friday, giving them a few days to recover. Oikawa had agreed, thinking that he would have a nice relaxing break from Ushijima.

He was wrong.

  
  
  
  
  


Oikawa rose early the next morning, despite the late night out. He felt as well-rested as usual. It wasn’t often that Oikawa got more than a few consecutive hours of sleep per night. He’d always been too restless for more than that.

He stripped off his now-wrinkled uniform and exchanged it for a pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt. His hair had stopped cooperating sometime in the middle of the night, so he pulled on a headband to contain it and swept out the door.

Oikawa went to the gym several times a week, to keep his physique strong. As he’d told Ushijima, he didn’t have the same advantages that most working heroes were gifted with. He’d trained hard for what he had, and didn’t plan to lose it. 

Even on days like this, when his fitness regime gave him a break from the gym, he still went running. 

It was early enough that there wasn’t much foot traffic yet. That influx would arrive soon, when the working class started their commutes. Oikawa hoped to be back at his apartment by then. His runs weren’t as successful when people kept getting in his way.

He spent a few minutes stretching, then took off down the street toward the glowing horizon. When the sun broke over, it would be almost blinding. He would turn around then, and make his way back. He’d done this routine so many times that it was as natural as breathing.

The thud of his footsteps became a constant pattern, matched up with the huff of his breath. He’d forgotten to bring his headphones, but he only remembered them about half of the time. He didn’t need them. When he ran, he let his mind wander, drifting off into worlds crafted of the same soft gray-orange hues of the impending sunrise.

He reached the convenience store that marked the halfway point of his run. He jogged across the street and started back the way that he’d come, with the slowly rising sun at his back. 

Before he’d taken three strides, someone nearby said, “Oikawa?”

He faltered, turned, and found Ushijima on a bench nearby. A sheen of sweat clung to him, shining on his face and dampening his hair. There was a half-empty water bottle in his hand. He must have just purchased it at the convenience store.

“Ushiwaka.” Oikawa automatically moved to push his hair back, remembered it was trapped in a headband, and realized how sloppy he must look. He wiped his damp forehead self-consciously, glancing around to make sure no one else was nearby. “You’re out early.”

“As are you,” said Ushijima. He rose from the bench with a huff, moving closer. “I hope you found adequate rest after our patrol last night.”

“Of course I did,” said Oikawa. “I’ve never felt better in my life.”

Ushijima stared at him, as if weighing the truth of that.

“If you’ll excuse me,” said Oikawa, stepping back. “I have a run to finish.”

“Of course,” said Ushijima. He tilted back his water bottle and drained the rest of it in three long swallows. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and said, “May I join you?”

Oikawa struggled to find a reason to say no, but couldn’t think of a single one. He was disappointed in himself. With a shrug, he said, “Sure, I guess. If you can keep up.”

Ushijima was solemn. “I will do my best.” He tossed his bottle into the nearby recycling bin, wiped his face again, and started running the moment Oikawa did.

Oikawa didn’t really think he was faster than Ushijima. There was no real way he could be, considering Ushijima’s powers. Regardless, he picked a pace faster than usual, and was unsurprised when Ushijima easily matched it. 

They ran down the street together, occasionally dodging a stray pedestrian, engulfed by the sound of their drumming footsteps and loud breathing. A pair of earbuds was draped around Ushijima’s neck, but he didn’t use them. Oikawa wondered what Ushijima listened to when he was running alone. He didn’t seem like the sort of man to enjoy music… or anything, really. Oikawa could hardly picture him as a normal person with normal interests. Ushijima seemed somehow removed from everyday things, as if he existed only to be a hero and nothing else. 

Oikawa thought maybe that wasn’t fair of him. Of course Ushijima had a life outside of his hero work, even if he’d never talked about it.

Of course, Oikawa had never given him much of a chance to talk about anything.

Oikawa glanced at him from the corner of his eye, not slowing his pace. Ushijima stared straight ahead, his brow folded in focus. He still shone with sweat, and it had soaked into his plain white t-shirt. His shoulders were broad; broader than they looked in his hero uniform. This close, Oikawa saw how sturdy he was, as if he was built of brick instead of flesh. Oikawa wondered if that was because of his powers, or if he was just like that naturally.

Some of it must have been natural. Powers could only do so much. If Ushijima had been born with no gifts whatsoever, he would have still been strong. Oikawa couldn’t picture him as weak in any circumstance.

“Oikawa, watch out.”

Oikawa snapped his attention back in front of him, but not quickly enough. He’d taken the first stride into an intersection, disregarding the flashing red crosswalk. There were cars everywhere, and he had only enough time to think  _ shield shield shield _ before he was yanked back onto the sidewalk.

Ushijima’s hand was firm on his arm, tethering him. “Are you alright?”

A taxi swept past, blaring the horn at Oikawa. He tried to shake the fog out of his head. “Yeah. I wasn’t paying attention. I was thinking, I guess.”

“Thinking,” repeated Ushijima. He frowned. “What were you thinking about?”

Oikawa would have preferred to get hit by the car rather than admit he’d been thinking about Ushijima. It hadn’t been like that, anyway. His mind had been drifting, just as it always did when he ran. He’d only been focused on Ushijima because he was there, because it had been a change in his usual routine. He shook his head and said, “I was thinking about my grocery list.”

“You said last night that you don’t cook.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t buy groceries. Don’t worry about it, Ushiwaka.” The crosswalk flashed. “Come on, let’s go.”

They made it the rest of the way without incident. Oikawa watched where he was going instead of looking at Ushijima, which had been ridiculous to begin with. It wasn’t as if he’d never seen him before. It may have been the first time they’d met in civilian clothes, but it made no difference. Ushijima was still Oikawa’s competition. 

“Okay,” said Oikawa, scuffing to a stop. He bent over, hands on his knees, and sucked in a few panting breaths. He’d been running so much faster than usual that he’d shaved five minutes off of his regular time. He supposed Ushijima was good for something, after all. “This is as far as I go.”

Ushijima came to a smoother stop. He stood tall beside Oikawa, only slightly out of breath. “Are you certain? We can continue.”

Oikawa shook his head. “I’m finished. I live here.” He gestured vaguely toward his apartment building, head still down. He took a few more cleansing breaths before straightening. “I need to get a shower and go to my agency. I haven’t been around in a while.”

“Alright, then,” said Ushijima. He peeled up the bottom of his shirt and used it to wipe the sweat from his face. His stomach was rock solid, ridged with muscle. 

Oikawa only realized he was staring when Ushijima pulled his shirt back into place.

“Thank you for allowing me to run with you,” said Ushijima. “It was a nice change. Perhaps we could do it again soon.”

Oikawa swallowed and looked across the street toward his apartment. His mouth was a little dry from all the running. “Sure.”

“Goodbye, Oikawa.”

Ushijima jogged off, and Oikawa waited until he was out of sight before picking his way through traffic to cross the street. He climbed the stairs, his muscles protesting the entire way. When he was inside his apartment, he sat in the floor and leaned over his legs to stretch.

His mind was still drifting, as if it had been lost at sea. 

To his extreme displeasure, it drifted right back to Ushijima.

It wasn’t a secret that Ushijima was physically attractive. That was part of his appeal to the public, one of the reasons he was so popular.

Oikawa knew, objectively, but he’d always been so annoyed by him that he’d never really thought about it.

Now he was thinking about it, and he didn’t like it.

He shook the thoughts out of his head and shifted into a different stretch. 

None of this mattered. He only had to get through two more patrols, and then Ushijima would be out of Oikawa’s life for good. It would be one more thing - one more person - that Oikawa would never have to think about again.

He pulled his knee back a little more, deepening the stretch.

He realized only then, much too late, that he’d allowed Ushijima to call him Oikawa.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

The next morning when Oikawa went out for his run, he found Ushijima sitting by the same convenience store, on the same bench, with the same brand of water bottle. He didn’t protest as Ushijima rose to join him, and the two of them retraced their route from the day before. Oikawa wondered if this had always been Ushijima’s running route. He was always so caught up in his head during his runs that it was entirely possible he’d passed him many times before and never noticed.

Oikawa’s run time was again faster. He knew it was because Ushijima provided a bit of competition. Oikawa supposed that wasn’t the worst thing. At least while they were running, Ushijima wasn’t talking.

The next morning was exactly the same, and Oikawa became suspicious.

On Friday morning, Oikawa set out half an hour later than usual, for curiosity’s sake. Ushijima was still on the same bench, but he seemed relaxed, as if he’d had a break of approximately thirty minutes.

Oikawa thought maybe Ushijima had been waiting for him.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

That day was their next scheduled patrol together. Oikawa met up with Ushijima outside of his agency as usual, a little after noon. He worried that Ushijima would think that their mornings together would make them friends, but nothing seemed different between them. Ushijima greeted him with his typical level of politeness, and they set off on their patrol. 

It was a warm day, but not stifling. Oikawa was perfectly comfortable as they roamed the streets, occasionally getting stopped by a fan, or by a civilian who only wanted to thank them for their work. It was different from the patrols he’d always done with Iwaizumi. They’d stayed away from the most crowded areas of the city, only venturing into the chaos of the packed streets if an emergency demanded it. They worked better from the sidelines, stepping in when there was a crisis and then stepping right back out of the way afterward. 

Being truly  _ seen _ by the public was different, a little intimidating.

Oikawa didn’t hate it.

“You seem to be in a good mood today,” said Ushijima, as they walked off after being gently accosted by a pair of young women who were ecstatic to meet them. 

“Oh, you know.” Oikawa flicked his bangs out of his eyes and smiled at a group of passersby. “It’s great weather today. Why not be in a good mood?”

Ushijima looked doubtfully up at the sky, which was shadowed by a wall of clouds. “I believe it will rain soon.”

“You think so? I hadn’t noticed.” Someone across the street flashed a camera at them, and Oikawa offered a friendly wave. 

“Last week you complained because it was cloudy,” said Ushijima.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I did no such thing.” He felt Ushijima’s stare, but ignored it. Oikawa could be in a good mood whenever he liked. He didn’t have to justify that to anyone, especially not Ushijima. “Besides, a little rain never hurt anyone, anyway.”

Ushijima’s stare intensified. He was squinting slightly, as if trying to work out a complicated puzzle.

They were approaching a crosswalk, and Oikawa waited for Ushijima to step too close to traffic, so he could pull him back the way Ushijima had done during their first run together. But despite his unwavering stare, Ushijima came to a cautious stop at the edge of the street without even glancing toward the crosswalk. 

“Are you alright?” asked Ushijima. “You seem off.”

“What, because I’m happy? That’s rude, Ushiwaka. Do you want me to be grumpy and irritable?”

Ushijima considered that, and finally looked away. “No. I suppose not.”

Oikawa grinned to himself, smugly, as they crossed the street. 

He wasn’t even annoyed that he was stuck with Ushijima for the duration of the afternoon. He couldn’t have been annoyed by anything just then. He was a hero, a good one, and he was finally getting the recognition he deserved. He’d worked hard for this. It was only proper that he should enjoy it.

“We should stop at that boba shop around the corner,” said Oikawa. “The one with the chalk drawings on the windows. Have you ever been there?”

Ushijima didn’t answer, and Oikawa immediately forgot that he’d even asked the question. 

In the distance there was a scream, then a chorus of them, punctuated by a hard kick of gunfire.

Oikawa and Ushijima exchanged a look that lasted for only a fractured second before they were running, dodging the people who were suddenly dashing toward them, clearly fleeing.

“Where?” asked Oikawa, still sprinting.

“It sounded close,” said Ushijima. “Perhaps I could fly up and-”

A cellphone rang, and Oikawa reached for his own before realizing it was Ushijima’s. Ushijima answered it, and the instant he ended the call he seized Oikawa’s arm and pulled him into the shade of the nearest alley. He didn’t stop running, and Oikawa didn’t question him.

“National Bank,” said Ushijima, as they cut a corner closely enough that Oikawa slammed his elbow into the brick. “Two streets over. Started as a robbery, but they’ve barricaded themselves in and taken hostages.”

Sick dread settled deep in Oikawa’s stomach. “Why the gunshots?”

“Hopefully a misfire. We will see.”

Oikawa’s dread grew thicker, and he ran more quickly. 

They emerged two buildings away from the bank. The street had been cleared, and a cluster of police cars were parked in an arc, facing the front door. They hadn’t approached. They kept cover behind the open doors of their vehicles, watching the bank, waiting.

“Valor,” said the nearest officer as they approached. “We were hoping you would come. We can’t get in. They’ve blocked the door from the inside.”

“What are they doing?”

“We don’t know.” The officer was scared, frustrated. “If we get close to the windows, they start shooting.”

Oikawa noticed only then that the front windows of the bank were shattered, littering the sidewalk. He hoped that was the only cause of the gunfire. 

“Lucky for us, I’m here,” said Oikawa. “Come on, Valor.”

Oikawa took a step toward the bank, and Ushijima followed without hesitation. With a flick of his hand, Oikawa created a shield that glowed with the same bluish hue of his uniform. It floated in front of them, providing impenetrable cover as they knelt to peer through the broken window.

When Ushijima had said  _ hostages _ , Oikawa had pictured two victims, maybe three at most. What he hadn’t expected was to find the entire bank lobby full of people, at least three dozen of them. They’d been separated into three groups, each hosted by a man in a black mask, brandishing a gun. Two more men were behind the counter, tearing open drawers, stuffing money into trash bags. Another man was closer, pacing back and forth near the windows, his back currently toward them.

“There are so many people,” whispered Oikawa.

“Yes.”

“How do these idiots think they’re getting out of this? Obviously they’re going to get caught, robbing a bank in the middle of the day.”

“They are,” agreed Ushijima, “and we will be the ones who catch them.”

Gunfire roared, and bullets slammed into Oikawa’s shield. He gritted his teeth and held firm. Bullets clinked to the sidewalk around them, harmless.

“Take cover,” said Ushijima, nudging Oikawa’s shoulder, “so you do not expend your energy.”

“I have plenty of energy.” Still, Oikawa followed, and the two of them crouched in front of the solid bank doors. The gunman could have leaned out the window and continued shooting, but he didn’t approach the broken panes. He was likely afraid that the police would return fire. 

“This would be easy,” said Ushijima, “if not for the hostages.”

The police were still gathered around the blockade of their cruisers, watching and waiting.

Oikawa took a breath, held it, and exhaled slowly. “I can protect the hostages.”

“We cannot risk losing any of them,” said Ushijima. “They have been separated into groups to make things more difficult.”

“I know that. I said I can protect them. All of them.”

Ushijima studied him. Oikawa expected to see doubt, but Ushijima only seemed to be concerned. “Are you certain?”

Oikawa wanted to snap at him, but he took another breath instead. He wouldn’t have believed himself, either. “I can make three shields at once. It’s… it’s difficult, and I can’t hold it for very long, but I can do it. I can get all three groups of them, but if I’m focused on that, I can’t protect us.”

“There is no need to worry about me,” said Ushijima. “I will not allow them to hurt you, either. If you can protect the hostages for two minutes, I can dispatch the gunmen.”

“Two minutes,” said Oikawa. “No problem.” He hoped Ushijima didn’t hear the note of uncertainty beneath his projected confidence. Two minutes wasn’t a long time, unless he was expending every single molecule of his energy, and then a little extra. It would be a miracle if he could do it. 

But he had no choice, so he would just have to make a miracle.

“You’ll have to bust down the barricade,” said Oikawa. “I have to see them before I can shield them. That’ll put me right in the line of fire, too.”

“As I said, I will not allow anyone to hurt you. Trust me, Oikawa.”

Oikawa did. Despite his attitude toward Ushijima, he did trust him as a hero. “Okay.”

“Are you ready?”

“Give me just a minute. I need to focus.” Oikawa settled his back against the door of the bank, still crouching, and closed his eyes. He pulled his power to the surface, like drawing water from a deep well. He let it swell until it was hot beneath his skin, almost electric. He pictured the layout of the bank beyond the barricade; where the hostages were, how many of them were in each group, the exact size of the shields he would need to create.

One shield was easy. Two required extreme focus. Three, though…

He’d never used three in a crisis because he’d never thought he could do it.

Now he didn’t have a choice.

“Okay,” he said. He opened his eyes, and there was so much energy crawling in his veins that his vision was a haze of blue light. “I’m ready.”

Ushijima was watching him, a deep crease between his brows. He nodded and rose, waiting for Oikawa to do the same before he stepped up to the door. “Focus on the hostages only. Do not worry about yourself. I have you.”

Oikawa had spent his entire life worrying about himself. He would’ve thought it was impossible not to, but for the first time, he thought he could let someone else have that responsibility, if only for a few minutes. “Let’s do this.”

Ushijima gestured at the police, silently instructing them to stay back. He leaned a shoulder against the door, gave Oikawa one last look that lingered, and braced his feet to push.

The barricade gave with a sharp crack like that of a falling tree. The door caved inward, Ushijima burst through, and Oikawa was right behind him, eyes darting to the three groups of hostages. Two were against the far walls, one huddled up against the tellers’ counter. Oikawa flung out his hands and his entire body pulsed as the shields shimmered into existence, transparent blue domes that sheltered the hostages just as the gunfire started. The hostages screamed and hunkered down, but any bullets that came their way were safely deflected. 

Oikawa felt them, though; every single bullet, tearing into him. He pushed harder, keeping the shields solid, even as he physically wavered. His knees ached, and he distantly realized it was because they’d hit the floor. There were more shots, close and deafening, draining more energy, and the shield to his left flickered out of existence. 

A woman screamed, and so did Oikawa, as he slammed the shield back into place just in time to catch another spatter of gunfire. Bullets bounced off of the shield, but it took so much effort that Oikawa felt as if they were ripping straight through him.

There were more shouts and more shooting, loud enough to make his eardrums ache, yet so distant that it felt like it was an entire world away. Oikawa couldn’t focus on it. His entire existence was those three shields. He had nothing else; he  _ was _ nothing else.

“ _ Guardian _ .”

Oikawa heard that, but he wasn’t sure if it was real, or just a phantom voice in his head.

“ _ Guardian… _ ”

Oikawa gritted his teeth harder. He tasted blood.

“ _ Oikawa.” _

A hand squeezed his shoulder, and Oikawa didn’t have the energy to flinch away. When the voice spoke again, directly into his ear, he finally recognized it.

“It is done. They are safe. You can let go.”

He almost couldn’t. He’d seized onto the shields with such force that pulling them back was almost as hard as holding them there. Slowly, he let them fall. They faded into nothing one by one, and with them went the rest of Oikawa’s stamina.

He’d already fallen to his hands and knees, and now he slumped to the side, boneless. He expected to meet the cold floor, but instead leaned into something warm, solid. Ushijima knelt at his side, holding him up. 

Ushijima raised his voice and said, “The police are waiting for you outside. Exit the building slowly. Do not run. You are safe now.”

The hostages did as he said. Some of them stood on weak legs, while others had to be helped to their feet. They wandered toward the door, some eyes hollow, some full of tears. A woman cradling a toddler against her chest whispered “Thank you, thank you,” as she stumbled past the two heroes. 

There was a triumphant outcry as the hostages exited. A crowd must have gathered beyond the police barricade. 

“Can you stand?” asked Ushijima, when the last of them had left the bank. The two of them were alone among the wreckage. The gunmen were on the ground, and Oikawa couldn’t tell if they were dead or alive. “I could carry you, but I feel you would be embarrassed.”

Oikawa squinted up at him, and belatedly realized Ushijima was actually making a joke.

Oikawa huffed under his breath, and leaned heavily on Ushijima as he got to his feet. He was unsteady, but he stayed upright. He felt like he hadn’t slept for a solid week, like he’d ran the entire circumference of the earth, like he’d been bled within an inch of his life.

But the hostages were safe, and that was what mattered.

“I’m fine,” said Oikawa, before Ushijima could ask. “Just exhausted. I don’t usually do that. Actually, I  _ never _ do that.”

“I knew you could,” said Ushijima. “You are a great hero, Oikawa.”

Oikawa mumbled something under his breath. Ushijima’s opinion didn’t matter to him. Of course it didn’t.

But he was pleased all the same.

“We should clear the building, before the police come inside,” said Ushijima. “Just in case.”

Oikawa felt like doing nothing more than lying down for a solid day, but pulled himself together and said, “Yeah, sure.”

Ushijima stepped over the nearest gunman and Oikawa followed, a bit more clumsily. They circled around the tellers’ counter, where two more gunmen had fallen, and Oikawa came to a dead stop.

The gunmen were down, and they weren’t the only ones.

“We could not have saved them,” said Ushijima. “They were likely shot before we arrived.”

Oikawa’s mouth was dry. The taste of blood lingered, now overpowered by a surge of nausea.

Four bank tellers were huddled beneath the counter, grasping onto one another. They’d sagged into a pile, and they were soaked in blood. 

Oikawa had seen dead victims in the past. Just the week before, during their rescue operation at the factory explosion, he’d unearthed men who hadn’t survived the tragedy.

But that had been an accident; all of the occasions in the past had been accidents.

This was the first time that Oikawa had seen fresh, vivid, malicious murder.

He stumbled, caught himself against the edge of the counter. The tellers’ eyes were still open, and one of them could have been looking directly at him, if there hadn’t been a sickening lack of life in that dead stare.

“Oikawa…  _ Oikawa _ .” 

Ushijima stepped in front of him, blocking the view. Oikawa blinked, and it took him far too long to focus on Ushijima’s face. 

“There was nothing we could have done,” said Ushijima. 

“You don’t know that,” said Oikawa. His voice was lifeless. “What if they died when we came in?  _ Because  _ we came in. What if they were back here waiting for someone to save them, and we didn’t even-”

“Oikawa.” Ushijima’s hands were warm and heavy on his shoulders. “We did what we could. Casualties are unfortunate, but they sometimes happen. You know this. You are a hero.”

“A hero wouldn’t let anyone die.”

“A hero isn’t a god.” Ushijima turned him around by his shoulders, away from the grisly scene. “If you must blame someone, then blame me, not yourself. You protected the other hostages. If I had been faster, perhaps I could have protected these.”

Oikawa tried to latch onto that, to feel resentment rather than helplessness.

He couldn’t. None of this was Ushijima’s fault. If Ushijima couldn’t save them, no other hero in the city could have.

Except if Oikawa had known, if he’d tried harder-

“Take a break,” said Ushijima. He guided Oikawa away from the counter, back toward the open lobby. From beyond the broken door, there were a hundred overlapping voices. “I will clear the building. Do not go anywhere.”

Oikawa turned; maybe to argue, maybe to follow. Ushijima was watching him with a level of concern that would have infuriated him if he hadn’t been so exhausted.

There was a blur at the edge of Oikawa’s vision, from the back of the room. It was an open doorway, and in it stood another gunman, an assault rifle braced against his shoulder as he took aim at Ushijima, whose back was turned.

Oikawa opened his mouth, tried to speak, but the words died in his throat.

The man’s finger tightened on the trigger, and Oikawa raised a hand, seeking the rush of his powers and finding absolutely nothing. He was empty; he was a void.

There was a snap of gunfire. Oikawa pushed, harder than he’d ever pushed before, harder than he’d ever needed to.

A shield flickered to life; it was pale, and wobbly, but it held. 

Bullets scattered, and Ushijima turned, the surprise on his face the most expression Oikawa had ever seen from him. He was across the room before Oikawa could blink, and the gunman crumpled to the ground.

Oikawa’s hand dropped, and the shield with it. He wavered, barely kept himself from falling. Ushijima was back, almost reaching out to steady him, stopping himself at the last moment.

“Sit down,” said Ushijima. “You need to rest.”

“I’m fine,” lied Oikawa.

Ushijima watched him. There was something different about his expression, but it was so subtle that Oikawa couldn’t place it. It was something about his eyes, about the intensity with which he studied Oikawa’s face. “You saved me.”

“Yeah, right,” scoffed Oikawa. “You’re invincible. It wouldn’t have hurt you, anyway.” 

Ushijima started to say something, frowned as he stopped himself. “Wait here. I will be back in thirty seconds.”

Without waiting for a response, he darted away, quickly enough that Oikawa couldn’t visually follow him. 

He’d never known Ushijima had super speed. It wasn’t surprising, though. Of course Ushijima was that much closer to being a perfect hero. 

Oikawa tried to be bitter about that, but couldn’t. He was too tired.

When Ushijima returned, only a blur until he came to a stop in front of Oikawa, he said, “The building is clear. The police will come in to clean up. The media will not be far behind. They are likely waiting outside now.”

Oikawa looked to the busted door. From that angle, he could see nothing beyond, but he could imagine it quite clearly. There would be reporters standing at the front of the crowd, cameras focused on the front of the bank, waiting for the victorious heroes to emerge. There would be news stories about this for days; they would make the front page, the headline news.

It was what Oikawa should have wanted, but the thought of it made him sick.

“I can’t,” he said. He pushed his hair away from his face. His fingers were shaking. “I can’t right now. Not after… I just can’t.”

Ushijima nodded as if he understood. Maybe he did, although Oikawa couldn’t imagine how he would. Ushijima wasn’t weak like this. He didn’t know what it felt like. 

“There is a back exit that leads into the alley,” said Ushijima. “If you would like to leave, then you may. I will speak with the media on behalf of us both.”

Oikawa glanced toward the back of the bank, toward his escape. 

It was stupid to leave. The whole reason for working with Ushijima was to get this sort of press coverage. He wanted to be popular. He wanted to be a top hero.

That’s what he’d thought, anyway. Now he wasn’t so sure.

“Okay,” he said, quietly. “Okay, I’ll just… Yeah. Thanks, Ushijima.”

Ushijima inclined his head. “It is no trouble. Be safe. I will check in with you soon.”

Oikawa didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing. He crossed the lobby, refusing to look toward the tellers’ counter, and drifted into a back hallway. 

The exit was easy to find, and the alley beyond was vacant. He followed it slowly, peering between buildings at the crowd beyond. He couldn’t see the front of the bank, but still knew when Ushijima had emerged. There was a cheer, loud enough to rattle the windows all the way down the block. 

Oikawa could have been out there with him, receiving the same praise, being watched with absolute adoration and gratitude. 

He could have been, but he didn’t deserve it; not when people had died, not when he’d been unable to save them. Those people shouldn’t have been cheering at all. They were focusing on the wrong things here.

Just the way Oikawa had been focused on all the wrong things. 

Oikawa slipped into another alley, keeping off of the main street, and slowly made his way back home.


	5. Chapter 5

As expected, the attempted bank robbery was the only thing on the news for the entire evening. Oikawa avoided it for hours, lying flat on his bed and staring at the ceiling in silence. But Iwaizumi had called, insistent that Oikawa turn on the tv, and he’d reluctantly dragged himself over to the couch.

He wished he’d stayed in bed.

Ushijima’s face was everywhere, on every channel. The bank was in the background, swarming with police officers. Every now and then the scene would cut to one of the hostages, who talked about how the situation had played out from their perspective.

But it was mostly Ushijima, and his voice was the only one that Oikawa heard.

“We are fortunate that we saved as many people as we did,” said Ushijima, looking into the camera as solemn as ever. “We did all that we could. I am very relieved that most of the hostages were uninjured.”

_ Most,  _ except for the ones that died.

“Guardian, in particular, was a great asset.”

Oikawa winced at the sound of his hero name.

The reporter asked a question, her voice quieter and less commanding than Ushijima’s. It was easy to ignore.

“The hostages are alive because of him,” said Ushijima. “If he hadn’t been with me, I could not have rescued them alone. He has done a great service to the city.”

Oikawa curled up against the back of the couch, battling against his mixed, unbalanced feelings.

The reporter said something else, and Ushijima replied, “One of the gunmen escaped from the back of the bank after we subdued his accomplices. Guardian went after him. That is why he is not here.”

Oikawa was surprised. He hadn’t thought Ushijima was even capable of lying; especially not over something this insignificant. There was no reason for him to make up a story like that. Oikawa hadn’t expected to be mentioned on the news at all.

He changed channels, to a group of newscasters discussing the incident. The picture on the screen behind them was of Valor, but their conversation included Guardian, as well. 

“ _ The two heroes emerged victorious after an intense fight with a group of armed robbers. Hostages report that Guardian’s unique shielding ability kept them safe, while Valor incapacitated the suspects. The police have reported four casualties among the bank’s occupants, but names have not yet been- _ ”

Oikawa changed the channel. He didn’t want to hear that.

Ushijima was on again, in a recorded interview from only two hours before. His face was lit by the soft hues of the approaching sunset. 

“Yes, Guardian and I have been working together recently… I am not certain… I do hope that it is a partnership that lasts. He is a great hero, and I am fortunate to work with him.”

Oikawa turned off the tv and tossed the remote aside. He rolled over and buried his face in a couch cushion. 

He didn’t know why Ushijima was saying all of those nice things about him. He could have taken the credit all for his own; no one would have argued. There was no point for him to talk about Oikawa in every interview. Their contract was only working five patrols together. It gave them no other obligations toward one another. Ushijima didn’t have to mention Oikawa at all.

But he still talked about him, still insisted to the media that Guardian was amazing. There was no reason for it.

...unless Ushijima actually believed it.

There was a knock at the door. Oikawa groaned into the couch and didn’t move. This was the worst time for Iwaizumi to stop by. Oikawa wasn’t finished feeling sorry for himself.

There was a pause, and Oikawa waited for Iwaizumi to kick the door open and come in anyway. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

But there was another knock, a little louder than the first. This time a voice came along with it.

“Oikawa? Are you home?”

Oikawa floundered onto his back and promptly fell off of the couch. The floor was painfully solid, but he hardly noticed. He scrambled to his feet and ran on tiptoes over to the door, holding his breath as he peered through the eyehole. 

Ushijima was on the other side, so broad that the hallway beyond wasn’t visible.

“How does he know where I live?” whispered Oikawa. “Why is he  _ here _ ?”

Oikawa looked over his shoulder at his apartment, and then down at himself. He was dressed in scruffy sweatpants and a t-shirt that had faded years ago. If he hadn’t been standing in his apartment, he could’ve passed for homeless.

He should just ignore Ushijima. If Oikawa didn’t answer the door, Ushijima wouldn’t bust in like Iwaizumi. He would go away, and if he mentioned it later, Oikawa could just say he hadn’t been home.

He should just ignore it.

He should just-

Oikawa opened the door, cursing himself even as he did it. “Can I help you, Ushiwaka?”

Ushijima seemed surprised. “Oikawa. Good to see you.”

“I saw you four hours ago,” said Oikawa. “How do you know where I live?”

“I knew this was the correct building, because of our morning runs. I knocked on several doors downstairs until someone directed me to this one.”

Oikawa just stared at him. He didn’t know what to say.

“I brought this for you,” said Ushijima. He offered a covered glass dish, the clear lid beaded with condensation. “If you would like it.”

Oikawa stared at it, somewhat skeptical. “What is it?”

“Dinner. I thought you may like some, since you do not cook yourself.”

Oikawa slowly reached out and took the dish. It was warm in his hands. “Did you make this?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I prefer to cook my own meals because of-”

“No, I mean why did you bring this to me?”

“As I said, I thought you might like it.”

Oikawa frowned down at the dish and then back up at Ushijima, who waited as patiently as ever. He was dressed in street clothes; jeans and a t-shirt that was in much better condition than Oikawa’s. 

Oikawa stepped back, clearing the doorway. Despite his better judgment, he said, “You can come in.”

Ushijima inclined his head. “Thank you.” He stepped over the threshold and removed his shoes as Oikawa retreated to the kitchen, which was only a few steps away from anything else in the small apartment. 

Ushijima’s apartment would certainly be larger and fancier. He probably thought Oikawa’s place was a hovel, was probably judging him right now for living somewhere so cheap.

“I like your apartment,” said Ushijima. He followed along behind Oikawa, politely looking around. “It is cozy.”

When they’d first met, Oikawa would have thought that was an underhanded insult. Now he thought Ushijima didn’t have the capacity for that sort of verbal subterfuge. “Thanks.”

Ushijima stood passively at the end of the counter as Oikawa popped open the edge of the dish. He didn’t know what it was, but it smelled amazing. 

“Hayashi rice,” said Ushijima, answering the unasked question. “It is one of my favorites. I hope you enjoy it.”

“You didn’t poison it, did you, Ushiwaka?” Oikawa tried to make it sound like a joke, but didn’t quite succeed.

Ushijima was concerned. “Why would I?”

“No reason.” Oikawa sighed and turned toward him. “Thank you. For this, and for… for covering for me, with the media.”

“It was no trouble.”

Oikawa slouched back against the counter. “I should’ve stayed. It was stupid to leave. That would’ve been a highlight of my career.”

Ushijima considered that, thoughtful. He was always thoughtful. Oikawa wondered how he processed things, because it was certainly different from the way Oikawa did.

“A hero has an obligation to his city,” said Ushijima, “but also to himself. It was a difficult afternoon. You needed some time. No one can judge you for that.”

Oikawa scowled down at the floor. “I should’ve pushed through it and focused on my job. That’s what heroes do, right? It didn’t matter how I was feeling. I should’ve ignored it and… I mean, it was stupid to focus on that anyway, it just…” Oikawa trailed off, frustrated. If he wanted Ushijima to respect him as a hero, this wasn’t the way to do it. He needed to be strong, unflappable. No one would respect him if he let his doubts slip through, if he showed any insecurities. No one would take him seriously, no one would-

Ushijima squeezed his shoulder, gently. “You are allowed to feel things, Oikawa. Heroes are human.”

“Yeah?” said Oikawa, skeptical. “You obviously don’t feel anything.”

That was too far. Oikawa knew it as soon as he said it.

Ushijima took a small step back, his hand falling away from Oikawa’s shoulder. Before he could even say anything, Oikawa blurted, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“I know,” said Ushijima. “You have a tendency to attack others when you feel vulnerable. It is a defense mechanism.”

That made Oikawa feel like sinking into the floor. Was he that easy to read? 

Silence bloomed between them, heavy and awkward. Oikawa wondered if Ushijima would just walk out. Maybe things would be easier if he did.

Oikawa didn’t want that, though. He didn’t want to be on bad terms with Ushijima, despite the way he may have felt about him.

Minutes dragged by before Ushijima said, “Sometimes I feel as if I only have value because of my powers. As if my existence would be pointless if I had been born without them.”

Oikawa blinked up at him, startled. 

“I have always been applauded for my abilities, and respected because of them,” Ushijima continued. He was looking across the room at nothing, brows furrowed. “Everyone has always spoken highly of me, and wanted to be near me because I am physically capable. I was blessed with great abilities, and I am grateful. However, I do often wonder how differently I would be treated if I had been born powerless. If I would have been cast aside. If I would have been unwanted.”

“You wouldn’t.” Oikawa didn’t think about the words as he said them. “None of that would be true. Powers don’t give anyone value. Who you are as a person matters more. There’s a different sort of strength in that.”

“And yet,” said Ushijima, “you place so much value on becoming a professional hero. Why is that?”

Oikawa couldn’t answer.

“I am a hero because it is my duty,” said Ushijima. “I have these gifts, and I must use them to help my city. I do not care about fame, or wealth, or anything of the sort. I am only doing my duty.”

Oikawa thought about that, longer than he should have. Minutes passed, then a few more. He realized he was chewing at the corner of his thumbnail and made himself stop. “I wanted to be famous. I wanted everyone to know my name. Of course I wanted to help people, too. I told myself that, anyway. But mostly… mostly I wanted to be someone, you know? Someone that matters. But after today…” He breathed out, felt as if he was shrinking. “After today, I know it’s not about that. None of it is. And I… I don’t know if I can do it.”

Ushijima’s hand was on his shoulder again. It should have been irritating, but it was somehow reassuring. “You can do anything you want to do. You are an excellent hero, Oikawa. One of the best I have been fortunate enough to work with. You could do great things. If that is not what you want, however, you would be successful doing anything you choose. That is your decision.”

“Yeah,” said Oikawa, “and that’s the hard part. What if the decision I make is the wrong one?”

“Then you will learn from it and move on,” said Ushijima. “You are not a man destined for failure.”

Oikawa laughed under his breath. “I haven’t done anything for you to think so highly of me.”

“You saved my life today,” said Ushijima. “If I hadn’t already thought so well of you before, I certainly would now.”

“I didn’t save your life.” Oikawa waved him off. “You’re invincible. The bullets would’ve bounced right off.”

A deep crease dug between Ushijima’s brows. “That is not true.”

Oikawa’s eyebrows rose. He started to ask for clarification, but was interrupted by a loud bang from the front of the apartment. 

Iwaizumi strode in, staring at his cellphone. “You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked, genius. I doubt anyone would break into these tiny ass apartments, but you never know. Did you watch that Valor interview? I don’t know why he said all that nice shit about you, clearly he’s never…” He trailed off as he finally peeled his eyes away from his phone screen and realized Oikawa wasn’t alone. “…oh.”

Oikawa pressed a hand over his own face. He was embarrassed  _ for _ Iwaizumi.

“Hello, Cannon,” said Ushijima. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Yeah, it’s… yeah. Same.” Iwaizumi glanced at Oikawa. “Am I interrupting something?”

“I was only stopping by,” said Ushijima. He stepped away from the kitchen counter to approach the door. “I will go. Thank you for allowing me inside your home, Oikawa. I will see you soon.”

“Sure,” said Oikawa. He couldn’t look directly at either of them. “Thanks, Ushiwaka.”

Ushijima pulled on his shoes, gave them a final nod of farewell, and quietly closed the door as he left.

Reluctantly, Oikawa turned his head to find Iwaizumi watching him. “Can you believe Ushiwaka showed up at my apartment? Ridiculous, right? I can’t believe I let him in, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

One of Iwaizumi’s eyebrows twitched upward. 

“He came by to bring me dinner,” continued Oikawa. “I don’t know why, as if I can’t fend for myself. I guess he thought he was being nice. Who does that? Weird, right?”

Iwaizumi’s eyebrow rose a little more.

“I mean, I don’t even like him! You know that. I always complain about him. I don’t know why he thinks we’re friends.” Oikawa was very aware that his voice was pitching higher and he could do nothing to stop it. “But at least I only have one more patrol with him. After that I’ll never have to speak to him again. What a relief.”

Iwaizumi smiled, and it radiated smugness. 

“Don’t look at me like that!” snapped Oikawa. “I told you, I don’t know what he was thinking, coming over like that. I never even told him where I live. I don’t-”

“You’re so full of shit,” said Iwaizumi.

“How dare - I haven’t -”

“Lie to yourself all you want, but you can’t lie to me, brattykawa.” Iwaizumi pushed him aside to examine the dish Ushijima had brought. He popped open the corner of the lid. “This smells delicious. Grab me a bowl, there’s enough for both of us. Your boyfriend brought plenty.”

Oikawa’s face caught fire. “Don’t say that! He’s not my boyfriend. He’s not even my  _ friend _ . We’re not-”

“Shut up and grab a bowl. I know you, Oikawa. You know I know you.”

Oikawa turned away with a huff and flung open a cabinet. He made as much noise as possible getting the dishes, trying to annoy Iwaizumi, but it didn’t work. Iwaizumi was still as smug as ever.

Oikawa wanted to continue arguing on general principle, but he knew it was useless.

Whether he liked it or not, Iwaizumi did know him. Iwaizumi knew him very well.

  
  
  
  
  


The next day, Oikawa planned to sleep late, stay inside his apartment, and struggle with some deep personal reflection.

Ushijima had other ideas.

Oikawa had sent him a text early that morning, so he would know Oikawa was skipping his morning run. It seemed like the courteous thing to do.

Oikawa imagined the smug look on Iwaizumi’s face if he’d known.

A little after noon, Oikawa’s phone rang. He felt a little jolt of surprise when Ushijima’s name flashed across the screen. He hesitated, but answered with a “Hey, Ushiwaka.”

“Are you busy?”

Oikawa was sprawled on the couch with an empty takeout box discarded on the floor beside him. “Umm… not really.”

“Can you be ready in twenty minutes? There is somewhere you need to be.”

“Huh?”

“Dress in your hero uniform,” said Ushijima. “I will arrive at your apartment in twenty minutes.”

“We don’t have a patrol scheduled for today.” It sounded more like a question. Oikawa didn’t think he would have forgotten about something like that.

“I am aware.”

“Where are we going, then?”

Ushijima hesitated. There was the sound of a car door in the background. “You will see when we get there.”

That was cryptic, especially for Ushijima. “Look, I wasn’t planning to do anything today. I haven’t even showered. I think I’ll just stay home and-”

“Trust me, Oikawa.”

Oikawa’s argument fell flat. He struggled for more reasons to say no and could think of none. Ushijima wouldn’t drag him into something terrible… right?

“Thirty minutes,” said Oikawa, hefting himself off of the couch. “I have to wash my hair.”

“I will see you in thirty minutes, then.”

The call ended, and Oikawa almost tripped over his takeout box on the way to the bathroom.

Almost exactly thirty minutes later, he descended the stairs, his uniform boots heavy. He considered sending Ushijima a text, to tell him that he was ready, but there was no need. A taxi was waiting at the street, and Ushijima’s silhouette in the backseat was unmistakable. 

Oikawa climbed in, mildly suspicious, but Ushijima was as calm as ever. He was in his uniform, as usual. Oikawa thought of the way he’d looked in jeans the night before. 

“Thank you for coming,” said Ushijima, as the taxi pulled away from the curb. “I feared you would not.”

“It would’ve helped if you’d said where we’re going,” said Oikawa. He tried to sit comfortably, but the front seat was too close for his long legs. “Where are we going, by the way?”

“You will see.”

Oikawa gave him a flat look. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“No.”

“Then why-”

“If I tell you,” said Ushijima, “I believe you will refuse to go.”

That wasn’t comforting. Unease surged in Oikawa’s veins. “Why are you taking me somewhere I don’t want to go?”

“You will not like it, but it will benefit you.”

“What do you-”

“Wait and see.”

Oikawa didn’t like the sound of that. He looked out the window, at the buildings blurring past. If he created a shield around himself, he could jump out of the moving car without a scratch. If Ushijima tried to drag him back, he could shield against that, too. 

Except Ushijima wouldn’t do that. If he was taking Oikawa somewhere, there must have been a good reason for it.

“We have one more patrol left in our contract,” said Oikawa. “Does this count?”

“That is up to you,” said Ushijima. “This is not a patrol, but I will acknowledge it as one, if you’d like. I would prefer to have the last one in a few days’ time, if you are willing.”

“Depends on what you’re about to drag me into,” muttered Oikawa.

Ushijima smiled, so softly and quickly that Oikawa thought he must have imagined it.

The taxi pulled to a stop, and Oikawa immediately realized why Ushijima hadn’t warned him.

He’d been right. Oikawa would have refused to leave his apartment.

“No,” he said. He sat back against the seat with his arms folded, staring at the seat in front of him. There was a sick feeling deep in his gut. 

“Oikawa, it is not-”

“I’m not going in there,” said Oikawa. He felt like a whiny toddler, but he couldn’t help it. This was the last thing he wanted. “Yesterday was enough. It’s still fresh in my head and I just… can’t.”

The taxi driver watched them in the rearview mirror with marked disinterest. He probably just wanted them to get out of his car so he could move on.

“I know you are uncomfortable,” said Ushijima, “but I must ask you to come inside. You need this experience.”

“No, I don’t.”

“I would not ask you to do this without a reason,” said Ushijima. It was the same thing Oikawa had thought, when Ushijima had asked him to come along. But that was before he’d known where they were going. “Please, Oikawa. Trust me.”

Ushijima had already said that, too. Oikawa wanted to roll his eyes, to snap back with a bitter reply cruel enough to make Ushijima abandon this entire endeavor.

But Oikawa made the mistake of glancing over, and the earnestness in Ushijima’s stare made him waver.

“I couldn’t do this yesterday,” said Oikawa, quietly. “I can’t do it now, either.”

“There is no media,” said Ushijima. “We are not here for that. Neither of us will make the news today.”

That made Oikawa feel slightly better.

“It is your choice,” said Ushijima, “but I believe agreeing is the right one.” He got out of the car and shut the door, circling around the back of the taxi. He waited on the sidewalk, looking off down the street, giving Oikawa time to decide.

Oikawa struggled. This was the last place he wanted to be. He would rather get called to a job, rather spend the rest of the evening fighting villains. He’d rather do anything other than this.

He looked out the window at Ushijima, who still stood calmly on the sidewalk. 

The taxi driver was waiting, his impatience tangible.

“Fine,” said Oikawa. He didn’t know who he was talking to; probably himself. “Fine. I’m going.” He slung the car door open, stepped out, and slammed it shut again with a huff. The taxi pulled away and left the two of them there, in front of the bank that had been robbed the day before. The sign on the door indicated that it wasn’t yet open for business. A small group of men were repairing some of the damage outside, refitting the door and replacing the windows. The broken glass had already been cleaned up. 

Oikawa stayed slightly behind Ushijima as they approached the door, a worker moving aside to allow them entry. 

Oikawa expected the inside to look the same as it had yesterday; furniture askew, floor littered by stray papers, bullet holes scoured into the walls. He thought of the dead tellers, and the puddle of blood, and his stomach lurched into his throat. He reached out for Ushijima, and would have grabbed his wrist, if a burst of sound hadn’t startled him.

A cheer rose up, swelling around them with a level of warmth that was at extreme odds with Oikawa’s recent memory.

People were clustered in the middle of the lobby, wearing wide smiles and clapping as Ushijima and Oikawa entered. There were dozens of them, fresh-faced and happy, some as young as toddlers and some as old as Oikawa’s grandparents. Ushijima approached them without hesitation, but Oikawa hung back, confused. 

A young woman launched herself at Ushijima, who caught her in a careful embrace. She held onto him for a quick minute before pulling back and beaming up at him. “Valor! I can’t believe you really came. You saved my dad and my little sister yesterday. Thank you so much. They’re right over here. They want to thank you too.” 

“Mommy, it’s the hero!” said a small boy, tugging at the edge of his mother’s dress. “The hero from yesterday!” He tried to toddle off, but she scooped him up and said, “Let’s wait our turn. Everyone else wants to talk to him, too.”

Oikawa stood there, shellshocked, until an elderly lady hobbled over on a cane. “Don’t be shy, boy,” she said, her eyes kind. “Come over here with everyone else. You probably don’t recognize me, but I was here with my grandson yesterday, during the robbery. Those bullets were coming right at us but you kept us safe.” She looped an arm through Oikawa’s and tugged him along, with more strength than he would have expected. 

A young man rushed up to him, dipping into a low bow. “Guardian, thank you so much for your help yesterday. If it wasn’t for you we wouldn’t have made it out. We would’ve died here. Thank you.”

They kept coming, a cycle of different faces and voices, but all with the same message.

“You saved my daughter yesterday, Guardian. She’s all that I have. I don’t know what I would have done without her.”

“You were amazing! I really thought they were going to kill us. They would have, I think, if you hadn’t shown up.”

“I’ve never been so scared in my whole life. I didn’t know what was happening. I still don’t know what happened, not exactly, but I know you saved us. Thank you, Guardian.”

“Thank you, Guardian.”

“ _ Thank you. _ ”

Oikawa didn’t know how long he’d been there. He only knew when he’d reached his limit. He smiled at the woman who’d approached him about her brother, who’d been one of the hostages as well, and said, “I’m getting a call. I’m so sorry. Give me just a minute, I’ll be right back.” He excused himself and drifted toward the back of the bank.

As he passed the tellers’ counter, he couldn’t help glancing to the side, where the bodies had been.

It had been scrubbed clean, no evidence left behind.

He passed through the back hallway and shoved open the door through which he’d escaped the day before. He pressed his back against the brick wall of the building, took a deep breath, and sank down to the concrete.

He needed to keep it together. He needed to be strong. He didn’t have time to break down right now. He was a hero, he had a reputation to keep, he needed to…

It was less than five minutes later when Ushijima found him. He sat beside Oikawa without a word, looking the other way as Oikawa wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

“I thought,” said Ushijima quietly, “you needed to see this side of things. After yesterday, you fixated only on the bad side of hero work. There is a bad side. A terrible side, at times. But there is also this. The people that you save. The families that are still together because of what you’ve done. We cannot save everyone. It is impossible. But the ones that we can save are enough. They are worth it.”

Oikawa sniffed, tilted his head back to look at the sky. “Yeah. I guess so.”

Ushijima was looking at him now. Oikawa felt it. “Are you angry at me for bringing you here?”

Oikawa sighed. “No.”

Ushijima nodded. “Good.”

They sat together for a moment. Oikawa wondered what Ushijima had said, when he’d excused himself to follow Oikawa. 

“Would you like to go back inside?” asked Ushijima. “There are more people who would like to speak with you.”

“Sure,” said Oikawa. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Ushijima stood first, and reached down to help Oikawa to his feet. His hand was large, strong, as Oikawa gripped it in his own. 

Oikawa gained his feet, and rubbed at his eyes one more time. “Do I look okay?” 

What he really wanted to ask was if he looked like he’d been crying, but couldn’t bring himself to say it. 

Ushijima considered him, his head tilted slightly. He reached out and brushed a thumb along Oikawa’s cheekbone, wiping away a lingering drop of moisture. “Yes,” he said, before turning back toward the door. “You look fine.”

Oikawa ignored the sudden spasm of his heart as he followed Ushijima inside.


	6. Chapter 6

Three days later, Oikawa ended up crowded into a restaurant booth alongside Ushijima, with Iwaizumi sitting across from him, unbearably smug.

Oikawa had no idea how he’d ended up there.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He had a fairly good guess, which involved a bad decision to leave his phone unattended while Iwaizumi was at his apartment.

He’d never thought Iwaizumi would actively try to ruin his life, but it seemed he’d been wrong.

“Seems like the two of you make a pretty good team,” said Iwaizumi, eyeing them over the edge of his water glass. “You’ve been all over the news lately.”

“I believe we do,” said Ushijima. “The two of you make an excellent team, also. You have done great work together.”

“You don’t have to be so nice,” said Oikawa. He’d shredded his napkin into tiny pieces, and rolled one into a ball to flick at Iwaizumi. “We all know Guardian and Cannon hardly ever make the news for anything.”

“Regardless,” said Ushijima, as Iwaizumi flung the paper ball back across the table, “there was talk of the two of you among other heroes. Those who know you feel you have potential. Around this time last year, I arrived on-scene shortly after the Chiyoda Ward incident. It was handled expertly.”

“That was all Oikawa,” said Iwaizumi, easily dodging the next projectile. “He handled the whole thing himself.”

“That’s not true,” said Oikawa. “It was a group effort.”

Iwaizumi kicked him under the table, hard enough to sting. Oikawa tried to kick him back, but missed. His boot thumped against the hollow underside of the booth.

Oikawa still wasn’t sure what was happening here, but he did know he was being bullied.

“He’d do fine on his own too,” said Iwaizumi, while Oikawa scowled. “I always told him he was too good for the side work we did. He should be out there in the middle of the action like a real hero.”

“You’re a real hero too,” said Oikawa, glaring. “Stop selling yourself short, Iwa-chan.”

Ushijima watched their exchange passively, sipping at his own water. Their plates had already been cleared away. Oikawa thought it was a miracle they’d survived dinner together without any casualties; specifically Iwaizumi, because as he gave another of those smug looks, Oikawa reconsidered killing him.

“You’ve noticed, though,” said Iwaizumi, turning his attention to Ushijima. “He second guesses himself all the time, but he’s good at what he does.”

Ushijima nodded, solemn. “Yes. I am aware.”

“Can we  _ not _ talk about me like I’m not sitting here?” hissed Oikawa.

“Walk away, then,” said Iwaizumi. He wadded up an entire napkin and it pegged Oikawa directly in the forehead.

Ushijima’s phone chimed. He checked it, and said, “Pardon me. Washijou-san is calling. I must step outside and speak with him.”

He rose, and suddenly Oikawa could breathe much easier. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he snapped across the table, when Ushijima had walked away. “You’re acting like a child.”

“That’s hilarious, coming from you,” said Iwaizumi. “Your maturity level is basically on par with a toddler.”

“Why did you invite him here?” said Oikawa, ignoring the insult. “Were you just trying to make me look stupid?”

“Did you even listen to that entire conversation? I didn’t say a single bad thing about you.”

“You just said I’m like a toddler!”

“I didn’t say anything bad to Valor, I mean,” said Iwaizumi. He checked over his shoulder to make sure Ushijima was still gone. “You have a good thing going on here, working with him. It’s what you need for your career. I know tonight is the last patrol in your contract, but you have to keep working with him.”

“No way.” Oikawa frowned down at the napkin he’d mutilated. “You and me are partners, Iwa-chan. When tonight is over, we’re working together again.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. Oikawa was still looking down, but he knew it anyway. “Do you want to be a professional hero or not?”

Oikawa didn’t immediately answer. If asked the question a week ago, he would have said yes with absolute certainty.

After the bank incident, though, he’d lost some of that confidence.

He’d always wanted to be a hero, but the job wasn’t what he’d thought. It wasn’t glamor and popularity. It was hard, and gritty, and painful. It was full of things he’d never wanted to see, things he wished he could forget. Being a hero was hard, and if he kept going, it would only get harder.

Oikawa had thought he wanted out, but Ushijima had given him a new perspective. After the trip to the bank and the meeting with the hostages and their families, Oikawa thought that maybe all the struggles were worth it. He couldn’t do this for himself, but he could do it for them, for all the people he could save.

The life of a hero wasn’t an easy one, but Oikawa had never backed down from a challenge.

“Yes,” he said, more seriously than he’d expected. “I do want that.”

Iwaizumi had grown more solemn, too. His stare was searching, serious. “This is the way to do it, Oikawa. You know it. Valor is one of the top five in the city. If you keep working with him, you’ll be ranked right there with him in no time. A few months, maybe. Less, if you’re lucky. Your rankings have already gone through the roof since the warehouse explosion. Once things settle down after the bank robbery, they’ll be even higher.”

“We’ve always worked together, Hajime. Always.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because I felt sorry for you and didn’t want to make you work alone.” Iwaizumi sat back and folded his arms, grinning. “Now that you have someone else to annoy, I’m not so worried.”

“I’m being serious here!”

“So am I. I’ve been working with Makki and Mattsun since you teamed up with Valor. When I’m around to kick some sense into them, they’re actually good heroes. We’re doing just fine without you.”

Oikawa’s frown was perilously close to a pout. “You replaced me that easily?”

Iwaizumi snorted. “You replaced me first. Don’t look at me like that, I know it wasn’t what you wanted to do. But now you’ve done it, and you have to keep doing it. You and Valor are good together. As a hero team, and, you know… just  _ together _ .”

This time Oikawa’s kick was accurate. Iwaizumi didn’t even wince. “Shut up, Iwa-chan.”

He shrugged. “It’s true. He’s probably the only person in this entire city who’s patient enough to put up with your bullshit.”

“I’m not interested in him,” said Oikawa.

“That sounded overly defensive.”

“I’m not interested!”

“That’s not what your face says, every time you see him,” said Iwaizumi.

“You don’t know anything about my face.”

“I’ve looked at it for years. I know everything about your face. Like how much it’s blushing right now.”

“It is  _ not _ .”

Iwaizumi casually checked his watch. “Don’t you have a patrol to get to? Don’t want to keep Valor waiting.”

“I hate you.”

“Sure you do.”

Oikawa stood with a huff, throwing enough money on the table to cover his meal and Ushijima’s, since he’d wandered outside before they’d paid the check. If anyone else had done that, Oikawa would have thought they were dodging the bill. Ushijima would never think of that, though. 

“Paying for his dinner? That’s romantic,” said Iwaizumi. “Might as well pay for mine, too.”

“Pay it yourself,” said Oikawa as he stormed past. “I don’t buy food for jerks.”

“Last I heard, you thought Valor was a jerk.”

“Not nearly as much as you are.”

Iwaizumi said something else, and Oikawa pretended not to hear. He was halfway to the door when Iwaizumi called out, “See you later. Be safe.”

Oikawa sighed and waved over his shoulder before exiting the restaurant.

He couldn’t stay mad at Iwaizumi. They’d been friends far too long for that.

Ushijima was a few paces down the street. He ended his call as Oikawa approached. “I apologize. I did not think the call would take so much time. I will go back inside and pay for my meal and then we can begin our patrol.”

“I already got it,” said Oikawa, catching Ushijima’s arm before he could walk away. “Don’t worry about it.”

Ushijima studied him, thoughtful. “I will pay you back, then.”

“I said don’t worry about it.” Oikawa ignored the way his face warmed. “Come on, let’s start walking.” He took off toward the corner, assuming Ushijima would follow.

“You did not have to do that,” said Ushijima, falling into stride beside him.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to sit there and listen to Iwaizumi for an hour either.”

“It was no trouble. I quite like him. He seems like a good friend.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes. “I guess.”

They reached the end of the next block before Ushijima said, quietly, “Thank you, Oikawa.”

“Sure.”

It was a slow evening of patrol, and Oikawa didn’t mind. There was a drunken scuffle downtown between two men with low-level powers, but they stopped fighting as soon as they saw Ushijima and Oikawa. The police arrived to handle the minor vandalism from the altercation, and the two heroes continued on their way.

The rest of the night was slow, peaceful. It was nice.

“Perhaps we should have chosen a different night for patrol,” said Ushijima. “I feel we will not get any action tonight.”

“Oh well.” Oikawa waved to a pair of civilians across the street who’d stopped to stare at them. “Maybe next time.”

Ushijima scuffed to a stop. Oikawa didn’t realize until he’d gone a few paces ahead. He turned back and found Ushijima watching him.

“Next time?” repeated Ushijima.

Oikawa realized only then what he’d said. “I mean… next time I’m out on patrol. With Cannon, or… or whoever. I didn’t mean… anything.”

Ushijima considered him. “You must know that I would be honored if you considered continuing our patrols together outside of our contract.”

Oikawa’s stomach lurched, not unpleasantly. “You would?”

“I have said as much during interviews. I was under the impression that you had seen them.”

“Well yeah, but I thought you were just being nice.”

Ushijima’s face grew sterner. “I do not say things I don’t mean, Oikawa.”

Oikawa nodded, slowly. “Right. I know that. So you… want to sign another contract?”

“I would rather not,” said Ushijima. “I do not feel that there is a need for contractual obligation. If you would like to work together, then we will do so. If you want to discontinue our team-up in the future, then we will do that, as well. If you’d approached me personally rather than having your agent offer Washijou-san a contract, I would have agreed to the same.”

Oikawa glanced down the street, to have a break from Ushijima’s stare. “I’ve never seen you team up with anyone else in the past.”

“I have not.”

“Why now, then?”

“You are different from anyone else,” said Ushijima. 

Oikawa turned away completely, hoping the night air would cool his face. “We should keep walking.”

Ushijima followed along without complaint.

It was well past midnight when they stopped at the edge of a vacant park. Oikawa dropped onto a nearby bench with a huff, and Ushijima mimicked him. “How did you do night patrols on your own? I’d fall asleep in a gutter if there was no one around to keep me awake.”

“Practice,” said Ushijima. “When I first began patrols, I often dozed off around three a.m.”

Oikawa grinned. “No way. The great hero Valor would never.”

Ushijima tilted his head back, looking at the sky. His profile was illuminated by the streetlamp at their backs. The line of his jaw was strong. “I once drifted to sleep mid-flight, just off the coast. Fortunately I woke up when I hit the water. More fortunately, no one saw it happen.”

Oikawa laughed, the sound of it echoing in the quiet street. “So you’re human, too. Who would’ve thought?”

“I am very human,” said Ushijima seriously.

“It’s easy to forget sometimes,” said Oikawa. “Someone that’s super strong and super fast and invincible… makes you seem like you’re on a whole different level than everyone else, you know?”

“I am no better than anyone else,” said Ushijima. “And I am certainly not invincible.”

“I’ve seen you get shot point-blank by a rapid-fire assault rifle,” scoffed Oikawa. “It didn’t even bruise you.”

Ushijima looked at Oikawa, the lines of his face solemn. “I can become invincible for short periods of time, but only with absolute focus. If my attention wavers, it slips away. If an attack catches me by surprise, I will not have time to activate it, and I will be hurt just like anyone else.” 

Oikawa considered that with slowly dawning realization. “So if someone sneaks up while your back is turned…”

“I could be hurt. Very possibly killed, depending on the type of attack.”

Oikawa gaped at him. When they were at the bank, when the last gunman appeared from the back room-

“You truly did save my life,” said Ushijima, as if pulling that thought right out of Oikawa’s head. Even in the low light, there was deep expression in his dark eyes. “I would have died at the bank, if you hadn’t been there with me. It means very much to me. I am in your debt.”

Oikawa shook his head. “No, you’re not. It’s what a hero does. You would’ve done the same for me.”

“Yes,” said Ushijima, “I would have. I would do anything for you. That does not erase my gratitude.”

Oikawa didn’t let himself think too hard about that. He couldn’t. “Don’t mention it, Ushiwaka. I’ve got your back.” He hesitated, and asked, “Aren’t you worried I’m going to run and tell everyone about your weakness? Nobody knows that. Everyone thinks you’re untouchable.”

“No,” said Ushijima. “I am not worried. I trust you, Oikawa.”

Oikawa didn’t know what he’d done to earn that trust, but he was honored to have it.

“I believe nothing else will happen that requires our intervention,” said Ushijima. He stood, his shadow long against the pavement. “When I am patrolling this late at night, I have a place I often visit. Would you like to go?”

“Sure.”

  
  
  
  
  


Oikawa hadn’t known what to expect, but a fast and chilly flight to the top of the Roppongi Tower wasn’t it. 

When Oikawa’s feet hit solid ground he stumbled. He suspected he would have fallen if Ushijima had immediately released him, but he hadn’t. He’d kept an arm around Oikawa, as if knowing he would need the extra stability. Oikawa pretended not to notice and shakily stepped away. 

It was a little cold on the streets, but it was freezing up there, with the wind whipping at his hair. It was so strong that it tried to steal his breaths before he’d even drawn them. Oikawa raised a hand, and a shield bloomed in front of him, sheltering him from the wind. He felt Ushijima step closer and he extended it, shielding both of them.

“Why do you like coming here?” said Oikawa, folding his arms against the chill. “This isn’t exactly a perfect vacation spot.”

Ushijima tilted his head back, staring up at the sky. “It is not comfortable, at times, but it is always beautiful.”

Oikawa frowned at him, then followed his gaze above them, to the ceiling of stars that glowed overhead. Down on the streets it was difficult to see the stars because of all the city lights; but here, they were high enough that Oikawa saw each individual pinprick of light, and the curve of the quarter moon toward the horizon. There were no clouds, just clear and sparkling stars.

“I have learned some of the constellations,” said Ushijima. He continued to study the sky, but Oikawa dropped his stare to to study Ushijima, instead. “I enjoy watching them, to see how they change with the seasons.”

Ushijima was peaceful, relaxed. If someone had attacked him just then, he would have been unable to stop them, if what he’d told Oikawa was true.

And it was. It must have been. Oikawa couldn’t imagine Ushijima lying to him.

Ushijima glanced over, and Oikawa dropped his gaze, looking instead at the ocean of city lights beneath them. He’d seen them from great heights, of course. He’d been in some of the tallest buildings in Tokyo, but never this high, and never in the open air.

“Would you like to go back down?” asked Ushijima.

Oikawa took a deep breath. The air seemed fresher up here, untainted by the millions of people below. “No,” he said. He dropped into a clumsy seat, knees pulled against his chest. “Not yet.”

Ushijima did the same, sitting cross-legged beneath the stars. Oikawa kept his shield up in front of them, low so it wouldn’t interfere with the view. He shifted a little, his shoulder nudging against Ushijima’s. It was cold, after all.

They sat in silence for a while. Oikawa alternated between staring at the stars and peering down at the lights below. Occasionally he slid a glance at Ushijima, who seemed perfectly content. He wasn’t smiling - Oikawa didn’t think he’d ever really seen him smile - but there was a softness about his face, a softness that was reflected in his eyes when he caught Oikawa staring.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, when Oikawa didn’t look away. 

There was, but it was nothing Ushijima could help him with. It wasn’t something that  _ anyone _ could help him with.

“No,” he said, so quietly that his voice almost disappeared on the air. “Nothing.” He gathered his feet beneath him and stood, his legs stiff. He crept a little closer to the edge of the building, his stomach lurching at the steepness of the drop.

Ushijima was right behind him. Oikawa didn’t look back, but he felt him there.

“If I fell,” said Oikawa, “would you jump off after me?”

“Of course.”

“What if I hit the ground before you could catch me?”

“You would not.”

Oikawa took another small step forward, but Ushijima caught his arm, keeping him back. 

“Please be careful,” said Ushijima.

“Why? You just said you’d catch me.”

“I would. I still do not wish for you to fall.”

Oikawa turned, and found Ushijima even closer than he’d thought. His hand was still on Oikawa’s arm, warm in the cold night air. It was rare that anyone was taller than Oikawa, but of course Ushijima was. It wasn’t by much; just enough to force Oikawa to tilt his head back to look at him.

“Do you ever jump off?” Oikawa didn’t know why he asked, didn’t really know what he was saying. “Just to see what it feels like to fall.”

“When I was younger,” said Ushijima. “I was more reckless, then. Not anymore.”

Reckless didn’t seem to be a word that would apply to Ushijima in any context. Oikawa couldn’t picture it. Ushijima was too responsible, too safe…

…too close, so close that Oikawa felt the heat of his breath.

He thought of jumping off of the building, just to escape this situation, to escape the way his heart hammered in his chest.

But he didn’t move, and neither did Ushijima.

“Are you sure nothing is wrong?” asked Ushijima, his voice low. “You are acting differently than usual.”

Oikawa swallowed, took a careful step back. “Yeah, I’m sure. It’s getting late. We should probably head home.”

Ushijima inclined his head. “Alright. May I fly you to your apartment?”

Oikawa almost denied the offer on general principle. But since Ushijima would have to fly him back down to the ground anyway, he might as well get a quick trip home. “Yeah, sure. Thanks, Ushiwaka.”

Ushijima held Oikawa close as they drifted off of the roof and floated down toward the city below. 

Oikawa thought about that, even when he was dropped off at his apartment, even as he lied in bed staring at the ceiling, even as he got a text from Ushijima just before he went to sleep.

_ Thank you for your company tonight. I hope to see you again soon. _

  
  
  
  
  


They did see each other soon. Several hours later, in fact, when Oikawa found Ushijima waiting at the same corner to join him on his daily run.

Nothing was different, on the surface. Ushijima greeted him the same way, and their footsteps fell into the same cadence as they jogged along the sidewalk. 

The difference was the feeling Oikawa got in his chest when Ushijima looked at him, or said his name, or stretched his arms overhead in a way that made the muscles of his back ripple.

Oikawa knew what was happening. The traitorous flutter of his heart was evidence enough. What he didn’t understand was  _ how _ it happened.

He was supposed to hate Ushijima. He’d told Iwaizumi as much, over and over again. He should hate him, and he had, in the not so distant past. He’d despised him.

“Thank you for allowing me to join you,” said Ushijima, the same as he said every morning. Except usually he followed it up with  _ I will see you tomorrow _ , or  _ I will see you during our next patrol _ . 

But now they didn’t have any guaranteed tomorrows. They didn’t have any patrols together, since their contract was over. There was nothing linking them together anymore.

Oikawa didn’t like the thought of that.

Ushijima turned to continue on his way, but Oikawa said, “Ushiwaka?”

He turned back, wiping the sweat from his brow with a forearm. “Yes?”

Oikawa started to speak, stopped. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Do you want to have dinner tonight?” His face immediately flooded with heat. He hoped Ushijima thought it was from the strain of the run. 

Ushijima blinked. “With Cannon?”

“No. Just… just us. You and me.”

Ushijima considered that, for a moment longer than Oikawa would have liked. He was afraid Ushijima would ask if Oikawa was proposing a date, and Oikawa didn’t know what he would say, because he didn’t quite know himself.

After what felt like an actual eternity, Ushijima said, “Yes, of course. I would like that.”

“Great. Good. Okay. I’ll… text you or something, later.”

“I look forward to it.” Ushijima’s mouth curved into the closest approximation of a smile that Oikawa had seen from him. Then he was gone, jogging along the sidewalk, his broad back eventually disappearing from sight as he turned a corner.

Oikawa stared after him for far too long, his thoughts twisted into knots. He had no idea what he was doing, or why he was doing it, or what he expected to happen. All he knew was that he felt relieved that Ushijima hadn’t turned him down.

He waited for a break in traffic before crossing the street. He realized only when he was in the direct center of the road that Iwaizumi was leaning against the front of the apartment building, watching him with a raised brow and an unbearable smirk.

Oikawa considered retreating back to the other side of the road, or maybe flinging himself into oncoming traffic.

But he crossed over, stepped past Iwaizumi, and tried to ignore him as he entered the building.

It didn’t work. Iwaizumi just followed him inside.

“So,” said Iwaizumi, when they were halfway up the stairs. “Got a date?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Iwaizumi snorted. “Sure you don’t. Where are you going?”

“To my apartment.”

“I mean later. Where are you and Valor going?”

Oikawa didn’t answer. He shoved open his apartment door and slung it back at Iwaizumi as he tried to follow. It bounced harmlessly off of Iwaizumi’s shoulder. 

“Unless he turned you down,” said Iwaizumi. “That would be a serious plot twist.”

“Of course he didn’t turn me down,” snapped Oikawa, turning on him. “Why would you even think that?”

“I don’t think that. It’s obvious that he’s into you. So you do have a date?”

“Get out of my apartment, Iwa-chan.”

Instead, Iwaizumi plopped down on the couch as if he belonged there. “Not until you tell me about your date.”

Oikawa ignored him and went to the shower instead, hoping Iwaizumi would get bored and leave.

Of course he couldn’t be that lucky.


	7. Chapter 7

It was a long afternoon, primarily because Oikawa spent most of it worrying over the impending dinner with Ushijima. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t been out before, but this was different. They didn’t have work as an excuse to spend time together. This was by choice, a choice that Oikawa had made.

If he’d been told a month ago that he would be willingly having dinner with Ushijima, he would have laughed in someone’s face.

Things had been easier back then, when he’d hated Ushijima. He almost wished he could go back to that.

But now that he knew Ushijima, as a person rather than just as a hero, it was impossible to hate him.

“You look nice,” said Ushijima, about halfway through their dinner. Oikawa had thought that outside the context of patrol they would have nothing to talk about, but the conversation hadn’t been as awkward and stilted as he’d expected. “I have only ever seen you in uniform, and during our morning run.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes, trying to play off the compliment. His face was absolutely not getting warm. “Are you saying I don’t look stunning at sunrise after four hours of sleep in my wrinkled sweatpants? I’m offended, Ushiwaka.”

“There is no problem with your appearance at those times, either,” said Ushijima. “I enjoy seeing you every morning. It is a nice change from running alone.”

Oikawa reflected on that for a few minutes. He’d scrutinized everything Ushijima had said ever since they sat down to dinner, looking for deeper meaning beneath his words. He still hadn’t determined if this was a date or not. He didn’t know if the thought had even crossed Ushijima’s mind. 

Maybe Oikawa didn’t even want it to be a date. He didn’t know what he wanted from Ushijima, not really. He was so conflicted that there was a knot cinched tight in his chest, squeezing his breath a little shorter every time Ushijima looked at him. It was ridiculous. Oikawa was ridiculous, asking Ushijima out like this, wondering if something might happen. Of course it wouldn’t happen. Ushijima was a hero, a professional. He was interested in Oikawa as a partner in regards to work only. He’d done nothing to suggest otherwise.

But he’d just said Oikawa looked nice. Was that supposed to be flirtatious, or just a passing observation? 

Oikawa should have just stayed home. It would’ve been less stressful.

“I will take both checks,” said Ushijima, as the waiter returned at the end of the meal. He passed over a handful of cash before Oikawa even had time to argue. 

The waiter retreated, and Oikawa said, “You didn’t have to do that. I can pay for my own food.”

“You bought my dinner last night,” said Ushijima. “Even if you had not, I would still want to treat you to a meal. Are you ready to leave?”

Oikawa couldn’t think of an argument to that, so he simply stood and followed Ushijima out of the restaurant. He shrugged on his jacket as they stepped outside, the night air nipping at him with needle teeth. Ushijima pulled his coat on, too. He’d complimented Oikawa, but he’d also dressed more nicely than Oikawa had ever seen him. It was a simple outfit of dark slacks and a button-up, but the shirt was tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders and the sleeves had been neatly rolled up to his elbows. 

Not that Oikawa had noticed those minor details.

Oikawa hesitated on the sidewalk outside the restaurant, not certain what was expected. Typically they had dinner and went straight to patrol. This was a scenario they hadn’t faced before, and Oikawa didn’t know what to do now. He should probably thank Ushijima for the meal and head home. That was likely what Ushijima was expecting. 

“May I walk you home?” asked Ushijima after a moment. The air was just cold enough that his voice was a wisp of pale vapor, slipping between his lips.

Oikawa’s heart may have skipped a beat. He huffed a breath and said, “I can probably find my own way there.” It was sharper than he’d intended, and the regret was immediate. He added, “I’m surprised you’re offering to walk, as much as you talk about flying.” That didn’t help, and Oikawa internally winced at his own social ineptitude.

“I do not use my powers when I am not working,” said Ushijima, unbothered by Oikawa’s rudeness. “I simply thought we could talk a little longer if we walked together. It is not necessary, if you would prefer otherwise.”

Oikawa didn’t know why Ushijima was still being nice to him. Anyone else would’ve been done with Oikawa a long time ago.

“Okay,” said Oikawa. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “How about I walk you home, then.”

Ushijima considered that, a crease in his brow. His mouth twitched, just slightly, and he said, “I would like that.”

Oikawa ignored the heat across his cheeks as they started down the sidewalk, steps in perfect sync.

They talked as they went, idle conversation about the weather and their surroundings and the dinner they’d just shared. 

“I enjoy nights like this,” said Ushijima, as they paced along an empty street. “The quiet reminds me of home.”

It wasn’t completely silent - the city never truly was - but there were so few people nearby that the sounds around them were easy to ignore. 

“Where is home?” asked Oikawa.

“I was raised in the country,” said Ushijima. “I saw Tokyo for the first time when I was a teenager. It was overwhelming, back then. On occasion it still feels that way.”

“Why did you leave?”

“There was little need for heroes, where I was born,” said Ushijima. The wind was cold, but he seemed unbothered. “I relocated to seek a career.”

“Looks like you made the right choice. Didn’t take you long to rank in the top five.” Oikawa should have been bitter about it. He wasn’t, not like he’d been before.

“I did not expect that,” said Ushijima. They stalled at a crosswalk, and the glowing lights painted the planes of his face. “I only wanted an opportunity to help people. I did not expect the success. I am grateful, however. The popularity has given me many chances that I would not have gotten otherwise.”

The crosswalk changed, and Oikawa tore his eyes away from Ushijima’s face.

He didn’t know where Ushijima lived, not until they came to a stop outside a tall apartment building on the cusp of the downtown district. Oikawa had expected something fancier, a classy, pretentious place befitting one of the top five heroes in Tokyo. 

Although nice, this place was modest, ordinary. It wasn’t what Oikawa had expected, but he should have. Of course Ushijima wouldn’t live somewhere flashy. It didn’t suit him.

Ushijima looked up at the cliff of windows. “We are here. My apartment is on the top floor.”

“Right.” Oikawa wasn’t sure what to do now, what to say.

“Thank you.”

Oikawa blinked at him. “For what? You’re the one who bought my dinner.”

“Thank you for your company,” said Ushijima. “I enjoyed our time together.”

Oikawa studied the apartments again, so he didn’t have to look directly at Ushijima. “Yeah. Me too.”

There was silence between them; comfortable at first, but slowly edging into tension. Oikawa knew he should say something, he just couldn’t think of a single word.

“I intend to work a patrol shift tomorrow,” said Ushijima. 

Oikawa made a sound of acknowledgment, but didn’t speak.

“Have you considered continuing our team-up?” Ushijima shifted his weight, adjusted the sleeve of his coat.

Of course Oikawa had considered it. He’d had a difficult time thinking about anything else, aside from their dinner that was maybe-probably-not a date. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it.”

Ushijima didn’t pry, just waited. Oikawa liked that about him.

“I think it would be in my best interest.” Oikawa shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. “I don’t know why you want to do it, though. You’re not gaining anything.”

“Yes,” said Ushijima simply, “I am.”

Oikawa waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t.

“However,” said Ushijima, “if we are to continue working together, I would like to create boundaries.”

Dread settled in Oikawa’s stomach. Ushijima knew. He knew what Oikawa had been thinking about, and he wanted nothing to do with it. He was going to tell Oikawa to get over it, that he didn’t have a chance, that he was repulsed by the thought of it.

“I do not want our personal lives to overlap with our professional lives,” said Ushijima, clueless to Oikawa’s internal struggle. “When we are out together like this, I would prefer to keep it separate from our careers. They should not affect each other. If there is ever a disagreement between us on a personal level, it will not impact our work. I will not wish to discontinue our team-ups due to anything that may happen in our personal relationship. They are unrelated. I want to work with you at a professional level, regardless.” He looked at Oikawa. The streetlamp behind him cast his face into shadow, but still his eyes shone darkly. “And if you do not wish to work with me, I hope that it will not exclude the possibility of a continued personal relationship.”

Oikawa stared at him, his mind whirling as he processed all of that. It was a lot, and it took him longer than it should have to absorb it all, but Ushijima was patient.

“Okay,” Oikawa finally said. His heart was thrumming too quickly. Maybe he was misinterpreting what Ushijima had meant, but it had sounded very clear. “Okay. Sure. I can agree to that.”

Ushijima nodded. “With that agreement, would you like to accompany me on patrol tomorrow?”

“Yes.” 

Ushijima seemed relieved. “Good. I look forward to it.” He gazed up at the apartments, just briefly, before returning his dark stare to Oikawa. “With that agreement, may I wish you a good night?”

Oikawa’s heart catapulted into his throat. He didn’t know what that meant, not exactly, but Ushijima was looking at him in a way that he hadn’t before. It was something about his eyes, intense yet soft, hesitant yet hopeful. 

Even without knowing exactly what he was agreeing to, Oikawa said, “Yeah. Sure.”

Ushijima’s expression went softer, as if there had been a measure of tension there before that Oikawa hadn’t noticed. He shuffled closer, stopping just in front of Oikawa, not looking away from him. He raised a hand, and though the night was cold, his thumb was warm when it grazed Oikawa’s jaw.

Oikawa didn’t breathe. He wasn’t sure if he could.

Ushijima had already asked, but maybe he’d sensed Oikawa’s confusion, or maybe he was just cautious. Again, he said, “May I?”

There was nothing to question, now. Oikawa knew what Ushijima was asking. 

“Yeah.” It was a whisper between them, carried away on the wind.

A fluttering heartbeat later, Ushijima kissed him.

It was firm but careful, with just enough hesitance that Oikawa could have easily pulled away. 

He didn’t. He didn’t even think of it.

Ushijima’s mouth was warm, and Oikawa felt that he may melt away to nothing. The kiss was gentle, lingering, and then it was gone, only the whispering memory of Ushijima’s lips and the phantom touch of his fingers against Oikawa’s neck remaining.

Oikawa wanted to chase him, to dig his hands into Ushijima’s jacket and pull him back in. He wanted more, wanted to kiss him harder, to taste him. 

But he just stood there, a little dazed, as Ushijima took a step back.

“Thank you for spending your evening with me,” said Ushijima, “and for accompanying me on the walk home.”

Oikawa licked his lips. “Right. No problem.”

“I will see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

Ushijima smiled - a slight upturn of his mouth, so fleeting that Oikawa thought he may have hallucinated - before turning away to enter the apartment building. 

Oikawa watched him go, and stood there for far too long before starting toward his own apartment several blocks away. 

Even when he’d let himself wonder if their dinner together may have been a date, he hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected it at all, but he certainly wasn’t complaining.

He pushed through the shock of it about halfway home, and found himself smiling. 

  
  
  
  
  


Iwaizumi knew. Oikawa didn’t breathe a single word of what happened during their dinner date, but he still knew.

He was in Oikawa’s apartment, uninvited, when Oikawa returned from his run the next morning. Iwaizumi was on the couch as if he lived there, flipping through channels, not even looking up when Oikawa stepped inside.

“You can’t keep doing this,” said Oikawa flatly as he kicked off his running shoes. “You have your own apartment, you know.”

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. “If you don’t want anyone here, you should lock your door.”

“I  _ did _ lock it!”

“I don’t know why you’re so mad,” said Iwaizumi with a shrug, returning his attention to the tv. “If Valor had been here, I would’ve left.”

Oikawa should have snapped something back, about never inviting Ushijima to his apartment, or not wanting him there, or hating him. That’s what he would’ve done a month ago. Instead he pulled his t-shirt over his head and used it to wipe the sweat off of his face, staying quiet.

Iwaizumi was looking at him. He felt it. “Was he here?” asked Iwaizumi. “Last night?”

“Of course not.”

“Were you at his place?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying!” Oikawa scowled at the wall just over Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “I didn’t go inside his apartment.”

“But you wanted to.”

“Why are you even here?”

Iwaizumi shrugged. “Just checking on you.” He idly flipped through a few more channels. “I didn’t hear from you after your date last night. Wanted to make sure you hadn’t been murdered in the street or something.”

“You could’ve just called.”

“And missed seeing you all embarrassed over your Valor crush? Not likely.”

“I’m not embarrassed. And I don’t have a crush.”

“Your face says otherwise.”

Oikawa huffed. He started to march past the couch and straight to the shower again in the hopes that avoidance would work this time. But something tugged at the back of his mind, and he stopped. He sat on one end of the couch, a leg folded beneath him, facing Iwaizumi.

“Hey, Iwa-chan?”

“Hmm?”

Oikawa picked at the seam of a couch cushion. The upbeat voice of a news reporter chattered away in the background. “I might have agreed to keep working with Ushijima.”

“Yeah, so?”

Oikawa frowned at him. “So if I’m working with him I can’t work with you, too.”

“We already talked about this, Oikawa.”

“Hypothetically, yeah, but now it’s actually happening.”

“It doesn’t matter. Don’t get all dramatic about it. It’s not a big deal.”

“But if we’re not partners anymore-”

“It doesn’t change anything. We have our own careers. We never said we had to stick together forever. It was good while it lasted, but it’s not what’s best for us anymore. Stop looking at me like that. It’s fine.”

Oikawa sighed. “Are we still going to be friends?”

“Unfortunately for me, we’ll always be friends.”

Despite himself, Oikawa smiled. “That was rude.”

“You’re rude ninety percent of the time.” Iwaizumi kicked him, gently. “Stop worrying so much. If you need me for anything, I’m here, no matter what. Even if you’d rather spend time with your buff new boyfriend.”

“He’s not my-”

“Not yet, maybe. Give it time.”

Oikawa snapped his mouth closed. He wanted to argue, but he was so flustered that he didn’t think he could form a full sentence. Instead he flung himself to his feet and stomped off toward the shower, followed by Iwaizumi’s chuckle.

Just before he slammed the bathroom door, Iwaizumi said, “Hey, Oikawa.”

Oikawa paused, framed in the doorway.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said the two of you are good together. Just let yourself be happy for once in your life and don’t do something stupid to sabotage yourself.”

Oikawa couldn’t argue with that either, as much as he would like to. He’d been friends with Iwaizumi for as long as he could remember, and no one knew him better.

“Yeah,” he said. He nudged the door shut gently rather than flinging it. He pressed a hand against it and sighed. To himself, he murmured, “Thanks, Iwa-chan.”

  
  
  
  
  


That day’s patrol with Ushijima was routine, typical. They responded to a few minor emergencies, but no one was mortally wounded or dead, so Oikawa considered it a successful night. 

Nothing felt awkward between them, despite their dinner together, despite the kiss. Oikawa thought about it, of course. He thought of it when they were racing across town to aid the police on a multiple-vehicle car crash. He thought of it when he collapsed on a bench afterward, catching his breath, and Ushijima calmly sat beside him. He thought of it when they went their separate ways at the end of the night, each of them branching off in the direction of their respective apartments.

He especially thought of it when Ushijima turned back and said, “Oikawa.”

Night had just fallen. The sky was dark velvet, layered with clouds. “Yeah?”

Ushijima didn’t immediately answer. He studied Oikawa for a moment, thoughtful. Then he said, “I would like to go out again soon, if you are agreeable.”

Oikawa made himself smirk as he gestured at his hero uniform. “I thought we were keeping our personal lives separate, Ushiwaka.”

“Indeed, we are. I believe our shift is currently over.”

Oikawa’s smile became more genuine. “I guess it is. We can go out Saturday, if you want.”

“I would enjoy that.”

That could have been the end of the conversation, but Ushijima was oddly hesitant, as if he wasn’t finished. Oikawa waited, fidgeting a bit.

“Last night,” said Ushijima. He paused, mulled over something before he spoke again. “Last night, I wished to invite you into my apartment. I did not do so, at the risk of making you uncomfortable.”

Oikawa pushed his hair away from his forehead. The weather had suddenly gotten a little warmer. There was a strange fog clouding his brain, and it was hard for him to form a clear thought. He fumbled over his words as he said, “Oh. You didn’t… I wouldn’t have been uncomfortable. I don’t think you could make someone uncomfortable even if you tried. You’re too much of a gentleman, Ushiwaka.”

“Thank you,” said Ushijima. He considered Oikawa, and said, “Would you have accepted?”

“What?”

“If I had invited you into my apartment. Would you have accepted?”

Oikawa had never been at a loss for words so often in his entire life.

He took a deep breath, struggled with indecision, and finally settled on the truth. “I’m not sure.”

Ushijima inclined his head. “I will not invite you, then. Not until you are sure.” 

That meant that Ushijima intended to invite him over at some time in the future; that he intended to have Oikawa in his future, at least for a while. 

Oikawa was pleased about that. More pleased than he should have been.

“I will see you soon,” said Ushijima. 

“Right,” said Oikawa, as they again broke off in different directions. Under his breath, he said, “Soon.”


	8. Chapter 8

During their next few patrols, Oikawa was recognized by the public more than ever. 

If they knew Valor, it was guaranteed that they knew Guardian, too. Kids dashed up to them, trailed by weary parents who offered apologetic smiles. Oikawa always smiled back as he and Ushijima signed autographs or took selfies with the kids or answered whatever strange questions they had about heroes.

The recognition was nice, and Oikawa had always liked attention.

But he didn’t bask in it the same way he would have before the bank incident, before he’d realized what was truly important about this job.

“Come on,” said one exhausted mother, pulling her daughter away by the arm. “It’s past your bedtime, Hiroko. The heroes have work to do.”

“Bye!” shouted Hiroko, even as her mother wrangled her around the corner. She’d been sleepy-eyed when they’d run into each other, but she was wide awake now. “It was nice to meet you! I hope I’ll see you again soon! Byeeeee!”

Oikawa laughed under his breath as he and Ushijima went on their way. “I feel bad for her mom. She’ll never get the kid to sleep tonight.”

“She was excited,” said Ushijima. “It is understandable.”

“Why’s that? Because Valor is such an amazing hero?”

“Perhaps, although I would say the same of Guardian.”

Oikawa didn’t answer. He couldn’t think of anything to say to that. 

“It has been slow tonight,” said Ushijima. He paused on the corner, surveying the street beyond. There were people here and there, but most of them had headed inside for the night. 

“It’s because we’re so amazing,” said Oikawa with a shrug. “Everyone is too afraid of us to do anything wrong.”

Ushijima gave him a look, brows slightly raised.

“I’m joking.” Oikawa patted him on the shoulder as he stepped past, and Ushijima followed.

It had been quiet since they’d started their patrol shift a few hours ago. Oikawa was getting comfortable, his mind drifting off toward the impending end of their shift. He was thinking of asking Ushijima out again, when their work was over. He could ask him to another dinner - the one a week before had gone well - but he didn’t want Ushijima to get bored of that. He was having a difficult time thinking of something else to do, and realized that since he’d started devoting most of his time to hero work straight out of high school, he’d rarely made time to do anything else. 

He was mulling over the mental image of Ushijima singing karaoke when a cell phone rang. Ushijima came to a solid stop, and Oikawa’s stomach sank.

That was Ushijima’s emergency tone. He only got those calls when something really bad had happened.

Ushijima answered the phone with a simple, succinct, “Yes.”

Oikawa couldn’t hear the voice on the other end. At least, not until Ushijima switched the phone to his other hand and leaned close, sharing the call.

The dispatcher spoke for only a moment. Then they were racing down the street, Oikawa sprinting, Ushijima moving with such grace that he was flying more than running. He didn’t dart ahead, or offer to fly both of them, because the destination was only two streets over. It was a nightclub, one that was well-known among the barely legal youth of the city. Oikawa had been there once or twice in his younger days. He was the one who entered first, leading the way down the narrow hall to the main floor.

When they burst inside, everyone present was pale-faced and wide-eyed, pressed back against the walls, out of the way. They stared in blank horror at the woman lying in the middle of the room. A bouncer was crouched beside her, a large hand pressed against the bullet wound in the woman’s chest, staunching the gush of blood.

They approached, and the first question wasn’t “What happened?” or “How is she?” Ushijima spoke in a low, grating voice as he asked, “Where did he go?”

The bouncer nodded toward the back door, still keeping pressure on the wound. “Ran out that way. Five minutes ago, maybe less. She’s gotta get to a hospital. I don’t think she’s gonna make it.”

Oikawa and Ushijima exchanged a look. It was quick, but clear.

“Get her some help,” said Oikawa. He didn’t wait for an answer before jogging toward the back door. “I’ll track him down.”

The alley behind the club was dark, both of the lights outside the door blown into blackness. It branched off on either side, and there was no indication which way the shooter may have gone. Oikawa breathed, listened, heard nothing. The alley on the right would lead off to the main street after a turn or two. If Oikawa had just shot someone, he thought he wouldn’t have gone that way. He would have tried to hide.

Oikawa went left, and dipped deeper into the shadows. 

The alley twisted and turned. Several other businesses were attached, and Oikawa tried the doors as he went, but they were all locked. That was a relief; it meant the shooter probably hadn’t taken refuge in one of them. 

He rounded a corner to a straight, narrow stretch, and quickened his pace. Ushijima had probably arrived at the hospital already, the victim in tow. Maybe she would be fine, and maybe she wouldn’t. Either way, they’d given her the best possible chance. Medics weren’t as quick to respond as heroes. It was likely she would have bled out on the club floor while she was waiting for help.

Oikawa didn’t understand how anyone could be cruel enough to shoot someone like that, in the middle of a public place, while they were completely defenseless. He was learning more and more that there were people in the city that were his complete opposite, people who had no regard for the lives of others. It was disgusting, repugnant. It was the reason Oikawa was around, to stop people like that from making any more victims.

When he rounded the next corner, he could suddenly see where he was going. Lights were mounted on the overhang of the nearest building, casting the alleyway into a weak glow. There was one more corner, but beyond it, Oikawa could hear the sounds of a main street; muted, because of the hour, but still there. 

He’d missed the shooter somewhere. It had been so dark that he could have been hiding along the way and Oikawa had walked right past. By now he could have fled in the opposite direction and been long gone, out of reach. They would have to go back to the club and investigate, try to get a name, ask the police for help tracking him down.

Oikawa pushed a hand through his hair and sighed, frustrated.

If Ushijima had been the one to pursue the shooter, he would’ve caught him. Oikawa was certain of that. Unlike before, he didn’t think it bitterly; just with a sense of resignation, of desire to be better, to match him.

It was then, standing in the narrow alley thinking about Ushijima, that a gunshot fired, loudly enough that Oikawa feared his eardrums would burst. He flung up a hand and slammed a shield around himself on instinct. It locked into place, spherical and impenetrable, bathing him in pale blue. 

Oikawa was fast. He’d trained so much with his powers that he could call on them in an instant, as easy as breathing.

He was fast, but not faster than a bullet.

It struck him a millisecond before the shield materialized. He felt it belatedly, a punch of heat in his shoulder, scalding him down to the bone. He stumbled, grabbing at his shoulder, the shield flickering once before he forced it solid again. There was another gunshot, and another, pinging against the shield, deflecting harmlessly to patter against the concrete.

“Stop following me.” It was more hiss than voice, sliding between teeth that were shrouded by a dark hood. The man was hunched over, the gun held in front of him, pointed at Oikawa. Oikawa couldn’t see his face, only the shaking of his hand. “I didn’t mean to shoot her. I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”

“Right,” said Oikawa, his voice strained. “I guess you just shot me by accident too, huh?”

Another shot fired, but his shield caught it easily. Oikawa peeled his hand away from his burning shoulder. His palm was wet with blood. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d been hurt on a job, but it was the first time he’d been shot. It didn’t feel the way he thought it would. It felt like someone had set him on fire, and the flames were slowly spreading.

“You’ll run out of bullets eventually,” said Oikawa. He pressed his hand back over the injury, wincing against the sting. “I can hold this shield until then. What do you plan to do after that?”

Either the man didn’t have an answer or he wasn’t listening. He fired off three more shots, and Oikawa felt the dull impact of them as they bounced off of the shield. 

“It was an accident,” hissed the man. Oikawa still couldn’t see his face, but he could imagine it; twisted into a snarl, eyes shining with madness, teeth bared. “I didn’t mean to do it. An  _ accident _ .”

Maybe he would have said something else, or maybe Oikawa would have snapped back at him. 

It didn’t matter. Oikawa never heard the man speak again.

The shooter slammed into the wall of the alleyway, the gun falling from his grip and skittering across the concrete. The man landed in a crumpled heap, neck tilted back at a strange angle, limbs flailing limply at his sides.

Ushijima stood over him, and though he was turned away, Oikawa read the tension in the harsh set of his shoulders. He hadn’t even seen Ushijima arrive. He’d swooped in so fast that he’d been nothing more than a blur.

Oikawa let the shield melt away. The shooter clearly wasn’t a threat anymore.

Ushijima turned, and his expression was rigid, harsh enough that Oikawa almost reactivated his shield. 

He’d rarely seen real emotion on Ushijima’s face. This was sheer anger, and it was terrifying. Oikawa thought no one would ever mess with the heroes if they saw Ushijima like this.

Ushijima thawed, slowly. He approached Oikawa, expression going softer, the crease in his brow digging deep. “Let me see.”

Oikawa didn’t want to pull his hand away. His shoulder was already hurting, and he knew that if he moved, it would only hurt more. Ushijima reached out gently, placed his hand over Oikawa’s, and slowly pried it away. Ushijima made a sound under his breath, low and deep. His eyes were dark, dangerous.

“It’s not that bad,” said Oikawa. He ignored the blood that soaked into his hero uniform, scarlet on teal. “It didn’t hit anything important. It barely grazed me.”

“It hit you,” said Ushijima, “and you are important.”

Oikawa laughed under his breath, despite the pain. “You know what I meant.”

“I know. Medics have likely arrived at the club, although I have already taken the woman to the hospital. They will take care of you. Can you walk?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“If you cannot-”

“I’m fine. Really.”

Ushijima gave in with a dip of his head. He knelt to pluck the gun off of the ground, racked the slide back to empty the chamber, and tucked it into the side of his belt. He glanced back at the man on the ground, but ignored him in favor of walking with Oikawa to the end of the alleyway, toward the main street.

There was no need to worry about the shooter. He wouldn’t move while they were gone.

Oikawa watched Ushijima from the corner of his eye as they walked. He stood as tall as ever, glancing at Oikawa every few steps, a hand moving to hover just between Oikawa’s shoulder blades, as if for support. 

He didn’t seem worried that he’d just brutally broken someone and left them lying on the concrete. He was only worried about Oikawa.

He’d been furious that Oikawa had been injured. That had been obvious. He’d been furious, and he’d done what he felt was necessary to keep him safe.

“We should not have split up,” said Ushijima. They emerged from the alley, and the flash of police lights lit the street beyond. They were only a block away from the front of the club. 

Oikawa shook his head. His shoulder throbbed. “That woman needed you more. I can take care of myself.”

“I know that. Please do not think that I have doubt in you.” 

An ambulance was parked near the police cars, the medics leaning against the rear bumper, chatting. Ushijima had done their work for them.

Ushijima caught their attention, made a sharp gesture. They darted over immediately. 

Just before the medics converged on them, Ushijima said, “I just cannot endure the thought of you getting hurt.”

Minutes later Oikawa was in the back of the ambulance, one of the medics spraying something on his shoulder that made him flinch before pressing a handful of gauze against the injury. Ushijima stood just outside the truck, speaking with one of the police officers. “The culprit is in the back alley. He will be unconscious for a while, but he will eventually wake up. I recommend he is restrained before then. Here is the weapon he used.”

Oikawa laid back with a sigh that tasted of relief. Of course Ushijima hadn’t killed anyone. He would never. 

“I will accompany Guardian to the hospital,” Ushijima continued, his voice carrying easily. “If you need any further assistance, please contact my agency. They will send another hero.”

The officer thanked him, and Oikawa felt the shift of the ambulance as Ushijima stepped onboard. 

“You don’t have to stay with me,” said Oikawa, even as the doors slammed shut. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“We are partners.” Ushijima said it with resolve, as if that statement alone justified his presence.

Oikawa supposed it did.

He didn’t complain as they made the trip to the hospital. And if he reached out for Ushijima’s hand halfway through the trip, he thought he had a valid excuse. He’d just been shot, after all.

  
  
  
  
  


It was in the early hours of the morning that Oikawa finally saw his apartment again. The sun wasn’t up yet, but it would be soon. The eastern horizon was becoming light, watery. Oikawa struggled up the stairs; not because he was injured, but because he was exhausted.

“I told them I didn’t need any painkillers,” said Oikawa. His voice sounded distant, hollow, as the stairway lurched around him. “They didn’t listen. Now everything’s just…  _ floating _ .”

There was a firm hand at his back, keeping him steady. “You will sleep it off. Just a few more steps.”

They reached the apartment door, and Oikawa leaned against the wall as Ushijima fumbled with the lock. The key had to be turned left a little first, then twisted right. Oikawa tried to say so, but the words got lost somewhere between his brain and his mouth. Ushijima figured it out anyway, and a moment later, Oikawa collapsed into his bed, barely aware of the muted throb of his shoulder. 

“Would you like some water?” asked Ushijima.

Oikawa said no. It came out as more of a mumble than an actual word, but Ushijima seemed to understand. 

“Alright. May I take your boots off?”

Oikawa hadn’t realized that he was still wearing them. “Yeah. Thanks, Ushiwaka.”

Ushijima said something else. His voice was a low rumble, comfortable and familiar. Oikawa listened, tried to hear the words, but couldn’t. He fell asleep with that voice thrumming in his ears like a lullaby.

  
  
  
  
  


Oikawa didn’t know how long he slept. It could have been hours, or days, or a few lifetimes. He only knew that when he woke up, he felt like he’d jumped off of a building and hit the ground hard.

His muscles were stiff as he struggled to sit up. The sun was bright coming in through the windows, and he kept his eyes shut against the glare.

His shoulder twinged as he moved, but it was nothing more than a dull throb.

“How do you feel?”

Oikawa turned his head away from the bright window and squinted up at Ushijima, who stood at the side of his bed. He was still dressed in his hero uniform, his hair a little tousled. 

“You’re still here,” said Oikawa. His voice was a croak.

Ushijima’s brows pulled together. “Would you like me to leave?”

“No.” Oikawa’s brain was broken into confused pieces, but he knew that, at least. “No, don’t.” He slid his legs off the edge of the bed, considered standing, but thought better of it. “What time is it?”

“It is almost noon.”

“Oh. Feels like longer.”

Ushijima rested the back of his hand against Oikawa’s forehead, carefully, as if checking for a temperature. Again, he asked, “How do you feel?”

“Alive.” Oikawa flexed the fingers of his left hand, cautiously shrugged his shoulder. It stung, but it wasn’t bad; not nearly as bad as it could have been. At the hospital they’d discovered that beneath the mess of blood, the wound wasn’t serious. It had taken a healthy chunk of flesh out of his shoulder, but a few stitches were holding it together. He thought the shock of getting shot was worse than the injury itself. 

“I will get your medication,” said Ushijima, his hand falling away. “Wait here.”

Oikawa wanted to make a comment, maybe  _ where else would I possibly go? _ , but he didn’t have the energy. He stayed there and waited as Ushijima retreated to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water and the bottle of medication that had been prescribed to Oikawa the night before.

Ushijima tapped a single pill into Oikawa’s palm and handed him the water.

“Thanks, Ushiwaka,” mumbled Oikawa. He swallowed the pill and tried to give the glass back, but Ushijima wasn’t paying attention.

Ushijima was distracted by the bottle of medication; specifically the label stuck to the front. He brushed a thumb over the small print, and said quietly, “Tooru.”

Oikawa blinked up at him, surprised, and Ushijima met his stare. 

They watched one another for a moment, lingering, until Ushijima reached out to take the glass from Oikawa’s hand.

“It suits you,” said Ushijima, as he paced back to the kitchen, only a few steps away in the small apartment.

Oikawa released a breath, watching him go with a strange feeling in his chest.

He blamed it on the medication.

“I must go to the police station to finish the report from last night,” said Ushijima, as he rinsed the glass off in the sink. “And then I will have to report back to my agency for a short time. I will return later to check on you, if you do not mind.”

“No, I don’t… You didn’t have to stay here all morning. You heard them say it’s not serious. I would be fine on my own.”

“I know that,” said Ushijima. He placed the glass in the drainer by the sink to dry. “I did not want you to wake up alone, and I wished to be here if you needed anything.” He wiped his hands off on a dishtowel, and turned back to face Oikawa. “I have spoken to Iwaizumi. He will be here shortly, to keep you company while I am gone.”

“I don’t need anyone here,” said Oikawa. To prove the point, he used his uninjured arm to push himself to his feet. He wobbled, just a little, but regained enough balance to follow Ushijima into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter, arms folded across his chest. “I can take care of myself.” He vaguely remembered telling Ushijima the same thing the night before.

“I know you can, Oikawa. You are the most capable person I have ever met.” He paused, and added, “You can take care of yourself, but you shouldn’t have to. Not all of the time. Not when there is someone here to help you.”

Oikawa wanted to argue on general principle. It was in his nature. He wanted to argue, because he didn’t like the thought of relying on someone, of leaning on someone, of losing any of his personal independence. He’d always taken care of himself and he didn’t want to give that up.

But maybe this wasn’t giving it up, not really. 

He heard Iwaizumi’s voice in his head, as clearly as if he’d been standing right there in the kitchen with them.

_ Don’t sabotage yourself _ .

Accepting Ushijima’s help didn’t mean Oikawa was weak.

It only meant he didn’t have to do everything alone.

“Okay,” said Oikawa quietly. He cleared his throat and repeated, “Okay.”

“I will have my phone,” said Ushijima, “if you need anything.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes. “I won’t.” He hesitated, and added, “but thanks.”

Ushijima nodded. He stepped close, and when he dipped his head for a kiss, it was natural, like they’d done it a thousand times before. Oikawa’s lips were chapped and cracked, and he probably smelled like morning breath and a long night of patrol, but Ushijima didn’t seem to mind.

When Ushijima pulled back, he almost smiled. “I will see you soon.” He turned to start toward the door, which was now open. Iwaizumi stood in the threshold, watching them with a raised brow and crossed arms. 

Ushijima and Iwaizumi exchanged pleasantries that Oikawa didn’t quite hear. He was too focused on the heat that rushed to his face, burning hotter every time Iwaizumi glanced in his direction.

Ushijima excused himself with a final farewell to Oikawa, and Iwaizumi shut the door behind him. Iwaizumi turned to face Oikawa, his eyebrow twitching even higher.

“That was disgusting,” said Iwaizumi, inflectionless. “I can’t believe I had to see that with my own eyes.”

“You didn’t have to,” snapped Oikawa. “You shouldn’t have been spying on us like a  _ creep _ .”

“It’s not my fault you’re making out where everyone can see you.”

“We’re in my apartment!”

“Yeah, yeah. I also can’t believe you got shot. What’s wrong with you?”

Oikawa looked around for something to throw at him. The closest thing was the glass that Ushijima had just rinsed, but he didn’t want to clean up the broken pieces later. “It’s not like I wanted to. You’re the absolute worst friend I’ve ever had.”

“Sure I am. Come sit down and tell me what happened. I have a feeling that Ushijima’s explanation was a little biased.”

Oikawa heaved an annoyed sigh, but scuffed over to the couch. He collapsed onto the far end, wincing as the impact sent a spike of pain through his shoulder.

“Be careful, genius,” said Iwaizumi, sitting next to him. Despite the sarcasm of his tone, his face was concerned. “Does it hurt? Do you need medicine or something?”

The pain faded quickly. Oikawa settled back with a grin and said, “Is Iwa-chan worried about me? How sweet.”

“If you’re gonna be an asshole I’ll just leave.”

Oikawa laughed under his breath, because he knew that wasn’t true. “Sit back and let me tell you the harrowing story of how I almost died chasing down a heinous criminal.”

Iwaizumi moved to kick him, but stopped himself just in time. Instead he slumped over on the couch and said, “You’re about to make it sound way more dramatic than it actually was, but go ahead.”

“Iwa-chan, I would never.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure Valor was probably the one who did all the real work.” 

“That is not true, and also very rude.”

They fell into familiar bickering. It was comfortable, and it put Oikawa at ease.

He’d always had Iwaizumi around, and he hoped that never changed.

Now he had Ushijima too, and he thought that it might be nice to never be alone. 


	9. Chapter 9

Oikawa gave himself five days.

Five days to rest, to mend, to recover.

Then he picked himself up, put the lingering pain in the back of his mind, and resumed his routine. The only difference was that he started his morning by taking a dose of the antibiotic he’d been given at the hospital. Otherwise he did everything exactly the same.

Except when he wrangled his way into a t-shirt. That took a little more strategy than usual, because he could only raise his arm so high before his stitches pulled tight enough to hurt. But he managed, and he was out of his apartment door almost exactly on time.

The morning air was just cool enough to be refreshing. Oikawa breathed it in, appreciated the feel of it, the taste of it. He’d been appreciating a lot of things lately, more often than he had in a long time.

Iwaizumi’s friendship was one of those things. He’d been checking in on Oikawa often, even though he knew the injury was nothing serious. He pretended that he wasn’t worried, but Oikawa knew him. 

Ushijima was another of those things. He’d been at Oikawa’s apartment every day, bringing dinner that he’d picked up at a restaurant after his patrol shift, or a dish of something homemade if he hadn’t worked. Oikawa complained about it, insisted that Ushijima was wasting his time, but really he didn’t mind, and he suspected that Ushijima knew that. 

Oikawa took one more breath of early morning air, stretched out his hamstrings, and started jogging. His shoulder burned a bit, but it was bearable. He’d sustained work-related injuries in the past that had knocked him out of patrol shifts for a day or two, but he’d always recovered. This one wasn’t really that bad, in hindsight. The shock of it had been the worst part. He’d never thought that he would get shot, even as a professional hero.

He ran a little slower than usual, but he didn’t push himself. He’d been sitting around for five solid days. His body needed to get used to moving again. He maybe should have taken another day or two of rest, but he couldn’t endure it. He was already going stir-crazy as it was. Any more time of being cooped up in his apartment would have driven him insane.

A few minutes behind schedule, Oikawa finally reached the convenience store that marked the halfway point of his run. He slowed to a jog as he rounded the corner, his stare darting to the bench across the street. He didn’t expect Ushijima to be there, of course. There was no reason he would be, considering Oikawa had been out of commission. He would have been nearly finished with his run by now.

But he was there anyway, sitting on the bench just like he did most other days. He straightened as Oikawa approached, taking another gulp of his water.

“Oikawa,” said Ushijima. He wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. “You should not be running yet.”

Oikawa laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Good morning to you too, Ushiwaka.”

“How do you feel?”

“The same as I’ve felt every other time you’ve asked me. I’m fine.” Oikawa plucked the water bottle from Ushijima’s hand and tipped it back, draining the rest of it before tossing it into the nearby bin. “We’ve talked about this. It’s just a flesh wound. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

Ushijima frowned at him. “I find that difficult to believe.”

“It doesn’t hurt much,” Oikawa amended. “I’m starting patrols again, too. When’s your next one?”

Ushijima clearly didn’t want to answer, but he finally said, “Tomorrow.”

“Great! Tomorrow it is.”

“Are you sure that is in your best interest?”

“I’m very sure,” said Oikawa. “It’s also in your best interest. You’re probably lost without me.”

Ushijima’s mouth curled. “Yes. I suppose I am.”

“Besides,” said Oikawa, taking a moment to carefully stretch his shoulders. “If you really thought I should still be locked up in my apartment, you wouldn’t have been waiting for me.”

To Oikawa’s surprise, Ushijima smiled. It wasn’t just a twitch of his mouth or a gleam in his eyes. It was a genuine smile, and Oikawa couldn’t help but stare.

“I knew you would come,” said Ushijima. “You are strong, and too stubborn for your own good.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” said Oikawa. “Ready to finish our run?”

“I suppose you would refuse the suggestion of taking a leisurely walk back to your apartment.”

The look on Oikawa’s face must have been answer enough.

“Alright then,” said Ushijima. He pushed his sweaty hair away from his face. “Let us go. Please do not overexert yourself.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t think you can keep up,” scoffed Oikawa.

It wasn’t true. Ushijima could outrun him any day, and both of them knew it. But it was a relief to talk with Ushijima like this, casually, without guarding every word he said like he expected it to be used against him.

They ran together, perfectly in sync, with Ushijima clearly slowing his own pace to match Oikawa’s. Normally Oikawa would have been annoyed that Ushijima felt the need to hold back, but it wasn’t like that. Ushijima was putting them on the same level so they could be together, side-by-side. 

Oikawa looked at him as they ran, more than he’d done since the first time they’d met up for a run. Fortunately he didn’t dart into any oncoming traffic.

When they reached the sidewalk across from Oikawa’s apartment, it was both a relief and a disappointment. Oikawa was relieved that the run was over, but disappointed that he and Ushijima would have to part ways.

He realized how clingy that sounded, how much time he’d spent over the past few days wondering what Ushijima was doing, or when he would show up again.

Oikawa should have been embarrassed by himself, but he wasn’t.

“Are you alright?” asked Ushijima. He wasn’t even out of breath.

Oikawa rolled his shoulder, carefully. There was a twinge of pain, but it was minimal. He’d had worse muscle cramps. “Yeah, it’s fine. You worry too much, Ushiwaka.”

“Only about you,” said Ushijima. Oikawa barely had time to register that before Ushijima continued. “Are you certain that you are feeling up to patrol so soon?”

Oikawa rubbed at his face. It was a little warm; from the running, of course. “Yeah, I’m good. I might be stubborn, but I would tell you if I wasn’t ready. Seriously.”

“I believe you.”

On most mornings, they said a brief goodbye and Ushijima went on his way as Oikawa returned home. This time, Ushijima hesitated.

“Oikawa?”

“Yeah?”

“I had not intended to ask, as I wasn’t certain you would feel up to it. However…” Ushijima paused, thinking. Oikawa had rarely seen him so unsure. “My agency is having an event tonight. It is a social gathering for agents and heroes, and their respective guests. If you are feeling well enough, and if you would consider it, I would be honored if you would accompany me.”

Oikawa stared at him, too surprised to immediately answer.

He knew which event Ushijima was talking about, of course. Every agency had their own special get-togethers each year, and Shiratorizawa was one of the most prestigious agencies in Tokyo. Only the best of the best heroes were represented by them, so only the best of the best were invited to their socials. In the past, Oikawa had always made scathing jokes about it. 

But in the past, he’d never thought he would have an opportunity to attend. 

“If you would prefer not to,” said Ushijima, misinterpreting the silence, “then it is not a problem. It is only an offer.”

“You want me to go with you to your fancy agency party,” said Oikawa. It should have been a question, but it didn’t sound like one.

“If you would like, yes.”

“Because we’re partners now?” asked Oikawa. “Hero partners?”

“That is part of the reason.”

“What’s the other part?”

Ushijima considered him. “I like to think we are more than that.”

Oikawa’s stomach swooped. It was a ridiculous reaction. He already knew that. Of course he did. Ushijima kissing him in the kitchen, like it was the most casual thing they’d ever done, was proof enough. Still it was good to hear, and it made Oikawa feel warm all the way down to his bones.

“If I go with you,” said Oikawa, “does it fall on the side of our personal or professional relationship?”

“Somewhere in the middle, I believe.”

“Do your agency friends know about us?”

“My business is my own,” said Ushijima, “and I do not make a habit of discussing my life with others. If they know, then that is fine. If they do not, then that is also fine. I will not hide any part of myself. I wished to establish those boundaries for you and I only, so that one area of our lives would not impact the other. The way we are perceived by other people does not affect me.”

“So… are you asking me on a date, then?” 

“Call it whatever you would like.”

“Should I wear a suit or my uniform?”

“A suit is most typical,” said Ushijima. “Does that mean you would like to go?”

Oikawa shrugged his good shoulder, trying to act casually. “It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

Ushijima smiled again. It was stunning. “I look forward to it.”

“Yeah,” said Oikawa. He glanced away to stare across the street. “Me too.”

“I will see you later, then. The event begins at seven.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you there.”

“Thank you, Oikawa.”

Oikawa waved him off. “I’m getting a free pass to a Shiratorizawa party. There’s nothing to thank me for. I’m the one getting the best deal out of this.”

Ushijima brushed a piece of sweaty hair away from Oikawa’s temple. “I disagree.”

Before Oikawa could process that, Ushijima had taken off, jogging down the sidewalk as if he hadn’t already ran for most of the morning. Oikawa stared after him longer than he should have. He realized he’d been doing a lot of that lately.

He had a feeling he’d be doing that for most of the night, too.

  
  
  
  
  


Oikawa had only ever been inside the Shiratorizawa agency when he’d signed the contract to team up with Ushijima. Aside from that, he’d always made an effort to avoid it.

Now he was walking straight toward it, the lights on the front of the building bright in the impending dusk. He was drawn to them like a moth, his stomach in knots as he approached.

He wasn’t nervous. Oikawa Tooru didn’t get nervous. Of course he didn’t.

A trio of women, wearing high heels and flashy jewelry and glimmering dresses worth more than Oikawa had earned in his entire career, entered the building just before Oikawa approached the door. There was a man standing there, large enough to be intimidating to the general public, a clipboard in his beefy hand. He eyed Oikawa as he neared, and grunted, “Name?”

Oikawa almost gave his real name, but remembered himself. “Guardian.”

“You’re not one of ours,” said the man.

Oikawa wanted to snap at him, but more than that, he didn’t want to embarrass himself on the doorstep of this prestigious agency. “I’m aware. I’m here with Valor.”

The man flipped a page on the clipboard and squinted down at it. He grunted again. “Go on in.”

Oikawa did so, with a smirk that may have been a little too smug. He was getting into that party one way or another, whether he’d been given permission or not.

The lobby was dimly lit, pots of greenery cascading down the walls on either side. The floor was so sparkling that Oikawa could see the blur of his own reflection. It was excessively fancy, but Oikawa didn’t pause to think on it. He wasn’t there for the decor. 

He didn’t know exactly where he was going. Last time he’d been upstairs where the agents worked, and he remembered nothing else about the layout of the building. He didn’t have to know, though. It was easy enough to follow the sound of distant conversation and the clink of glasses, and he found himself on the cusp of a large room. There were more people than he’d expected, considering the exclusivity of the event. They were gathered in different groups, drinking and socializing. Everyone was dressed like extras in a high-class film.

Oikawa looked around, searching for Ushijima and failing to find him among the crowd. He was there somewhere; he had to be. Ushijima had never been late for anything in his entire life.

Oikawa was a little reluctant to mingle amid these strangers, but he took a breath and did it anyway. He sidestepped the larger groups and offered a charming smile for anyone who looked in his direction. A waiter with a tray of drinks passed by, and Oikawa accepted a flute of champagne. He idly sipped at it as he slipped deeper into the crowd, still searching. 

He found Ushijima near the back of the room, alone except for one other man that Oikawa didn’t recognize. He didn’t try very hard to recognize the stranger. He only had attention to spare for Ushijima.

They’d spent enough time together outside of work that he’d seen Ushijima in his everyday wardrobe on several occasions. He’d even dressed nicely for their dinner dates. But seeing him like that, and seeing him in this expensively tailored suit, were entirely different.

Ushijima’s companion noticed Oikawa first, probably because he was blatantly staring. Ushijima checked over his shoulder, and when he saw Oikawa, his face lit up.

For Ushijima, that was only a twitch of his mouth and a softness in his eyes, unnoticeable to most. But Oikawa knew him well enough now to see the difference.

“You made it,” said Ushijima. He shifted to the side, making space for Oikawa to join them. “It is good to see you. You look very nice tonight.”

Oikawa should have played that off with a light comment, but he was too distracted to come up with a single thing to say other than, “Yeah, so do you.”

Ushijima gestured toward his friend. “This is Sentinel. Have you met?”

“No, I don’t think we have,” said the stranger, Sentinel. Now that Oikawa had been given the name, he wasn’t much of a stranger. Sentinel wasn’t as popular as Valor - hardly anyone was - but Oikawa had heard his name too many times to count. He was a great hero, too. Oikawa hadn’t recognized him out of uniform. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Oikawa, dragging his attention away from Ushijima to properly address Sentinel.

“You as well. I’ve heard a lot about you, Guardian.” He glanced at Ushijima, just briefly. “You can call me Reon. Most everyone here does.”

Oikawa was surprised by that. He’d never met a hero who’d given his real name so easily.

“Reon and I signed with the agency at the same time,” said Ushijima. He tugged at the tie cinched around his neck. It was black, like his suit. “Before that, we attended the same school. We have a long history together.”

That sounded a lot like Oikawa’s relationship with Iwaizumi. 

“I’m Oikawa,” he said, before he could overthink it. If Ushijima trusted Reon, then there was no reason that Oikawa shouldn’t. “But do me a favor and don’t pass that around.”

Reon’s smile was warm, genuine. “I’ve got you. Glad you could make it, Oikawa. I was hoping I’d get to meet you.” 

Oikawa wasn’t sure what he meant by that. Was he only saying that because Ushijima and Oikawa had been working together? Or had Ushijima told him more about them? He’d said he didn’t like to discuss his business with others, but clearly Reon wasn’t just another person. He was a friend.

“I need to track down Washijou-san, I missed him on the way in,” said Reon. “I’ll catch up with you later, Wakatoshi. See you soon, Oikawa.” He gave Ushijima a gentle slap on the shoulder as he drifted off.

“You never told me you had a best friend, Ushiwaka.” Oikawa said it with a smile and a touch of teasing.

“It never seemed relevant. Reon and I rarely cross paths when we work.”

“But you do when you’re not working?”

“I suppose so.”

“Then it’s relevant,” said Oikawa.

Ushijima considered that. “I was unsure if you would want to know about my personal life.”

That gave Oikawa a strange feeling. It was a fishhook pull deep in his gut, a gentle taste of melancholy. “Of course I want to know,” he said, speaking more quietly. “I ramble about my life all the time. It’s only fair that you talk about yours, too.”

“Most people are only interested in things relevant to my hero career.” Ushijima said it in a detached sort of way. “I did not wish to bore you with anything more.”

Oikawa scrambled to remember every single conversation he’d ever had with Ushijima. There’d been too many of them, but he tried to recall if he’d ever said anything that would have suggested he didn’t care about Ushijima as a person. He didn’t think he had. He hoped he hadn’t, anyway. “Don’t be ridiculous, Ushiwaka. I know about your hero career already. Tell me something new. About these people,” he said, gesturing to the crowd. “Surely you’re friends with more of them, right?”

Ushijima seemed thoughtful. “I suppose so.” He studied the crowd and pointed out a man in a gray suit, his hair two-toned. “That is Phoenix. He has been with the agency nearly as long as Reon and I.” He gestured a short distance away, where a shorter man looked increasingly bored, accompanied by a younger man who was nearly bouncing in excitement. “That is Carbine, who signed on a year after I did. And Helix, the newest hero at the agency. They are working together for now, until Helix becomes comfortable on his own. He is a bit overexcited, at times.”

That was proven when Helix flailed his arms and nearly knocked a tray out of a passing waiter’s hand. 

“Do you get along with all of them?” asked Oikawa.

“Yes,” said Ushijima. “They are good people, and good heroes. I am fortunate to share an agency with them.”

“I’d like to meet them,” said Oikawa, sliding a glance at Ushijima. “If you want to introduce me.”

“Of course,” said Ushijima. “You should make connections with as many heroes as possible. It is beneficial for your career.”

“I don’t care about that,” said Oikawa. It was the first time he’d ever said that and meant it. He was almost always thinking about his career. “I want you to introduce me because they’re your friends. I’m not here because of my career. I’m here because you invited me.”

Ushijima smiled. He’d done more of that today than he’d done since they’d met. It was a good look for him. It softened the naturally harsh lines of his face. “I would be honored for you to meet them, then. Do not think badly of Carbine. He is not particularly friendly to strangers. The others will be pleased to know you.” 

Ushijima led the way through the crowd, and Oikawa willingly followed.

  
  
  
  
  


The night ended more quickly than Oikawa expected. One moment he was making conversation with Phoenix, who looked entirely different in person than he did when working as his hero persona. The next it was eleven-thirty and the crowd was gradually dwindling. 

Oikawa was reluctant to leave. He’d been having a better time than expected. The Shiratorizawa heroes weren’t nearly as snobby as he’d thought they would be.

Except Carbine. He didn’t care much for Carbine.

“The weather has changed,” said Ushijima, as they stepped out of the agency together. 

The chill hit Oikawa like a brick wall, stealing his breath. “Great. I can’t wait to work in the snow again. I’ve really missed it.”

“At least the crime rates are lower in the winter,” said Ushijima. “Villains and criminals don’t wish to be out in the cold, either.”

Oikawa huffed a laugh. He started to speak, but was distracted by the buzzing in his pocket. He fumbled for his phone and checked the screen before answering. “Hey, Iwa-chan.”

“Oikawa!” Iwaizumi’s voice was too loud. Oikawa held the phone away from his ear. “You still at your fancy ass party?”

Oikawa sighed. Iwaizumi was only that loud when he was drinking. “We just left.”

“You’ve gotta come over here,” said Iwaizumi. “Makki and Mattsun say hi.”

He didn’t even have to relay that message. Oikawa could hear them clearly in the background. Hanamaki shouted, “Tell him we need to see his new scar! Getting shot is so badass!”

Oikawa slapped a hand over his face. “What are you idiots even doing?”

“We’re at the bar,” said Iwaizumi. “Come hang out. Unless you’re too cool for us now.”

Oikawa spared a glance at Ushijima. “I’m busy.”

“No, you’re not. Not unless you’re finally gonna go home with Valor and-”

“I said I’m busy,” snapped Oikawa, cutting him off. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“C’mon, Oikawa, you haven’t gone out with us in forever.” That voice was Matsukawa, probably leaning into Iwaizumi’s personal space to speak. “Don’t you miss us? Is Valor that much better than us?”

Oikawa looked at Ushijima again, afraid he would be offended by his friends’ nonsense. But Ushijima didn’t seem bothered. If anything, he may have been a bit amused.

“I’ll go out with you another time,” said Oikawa. He wished they wouldn’t shout so he could actually have a private conversation. There was no way Ushijima couldn’t hear every word they said. “I can’t tonight.”

“Why not? You have  _ other plans _ ?” Matsukawa’s voice had that tone to it; the tone that meant his eyebrows were doing something suggestive.

Ushijima touched Oikawa’s shoulder. “You should spend time with your friends, if that is what you would like to do. It sounds as if they miss you.”

“But I thought you and I would…” Oikawa trailed off. There was no way he would say what had just gone through his mind. Hanamaki was chattering away now, but he was easy to ignore. Oikawa frowned up at Ushijima and said, “Okay, fine. I’ll go hang out with them, but only if you go with me.”

Ushijima seemed surprised by that. “Are you certain?”

“I’m certain that they’re complete morons.” He said that part into the phone, to make sure it was heard. To Ushijima, he added, “I met your friends. You should meet mine, too. Fair warning, they’re a lot louder than yours, and Iwaizumi is the only halfway normal one. Makki and Mattsun are… different.”

“I do not mind different. I would quite enjoy meeting them.”

“Okay. Just remember I warned you.” Oikawa turned away to speak into the phone again. “Fine, we’re coming. Be there in twenty.”

“ _ We _ ?” said Hanamaki loudly. “You’re bringing the boyfriend?”

“Shut up,” snapped Oikawa. “If any of you tell a single embarrassing story about me, I’m never speaking to you again.”

“Come on, Oikawa,” said Matsukawa. “We would never.”

Oikawa didn’t believe that for a second. 


	10. Chapter 10

Meeting Oikawa’s friends was an entirely different experience than meeting Ushijima’s friends.

The alcohol didn’t help.

“There he is!” shouted Hanamaki, the instant that Oikawa and Ushijima entered the bar. Hanamaki lunged over and threw himself at Oikawa, who only caught him because this had happened to him approximately 300 times before. Hanamaki thumped Oikawa hard on the back, much too close to his shoulder wound, before peeling himself away. He tilted his head at Ushijima, thinking.

Oikawa realized what he was about to do a single second before it happened.

“Stop it, Makki,” he snapped, seizing Hanamaki just before he could fling himself at Ushijima, too. “Can you act like a normal human for one night in your life?”

“Probably not,” said Hanamaki. Still restrained by Oikawa, he sufficed with a clumsy, somewhat awkward bow. “Hanamaki. You probably know me as the great and powerful Cosmos.”

Ushijima offered a slight incline of his head. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Wow, you’re big in person,” said Hanamaki. “No wonder Oikawa- Oww, hey!”

Oikawa shoved Hanamaki toward the tables, where Iwaizumi and Matsukawa were waiting with too much amusement stamped onto their faces. “Sit down, you sound like an idiot.”

“You sound like an idiot every time you open your mouth and I never make fun of you,” said Hanamaki with a grin. Still, he shuffled over to the table and collapsed into the chair beside Iwaizumi.

Oikawa wanted nothing more than to turn around and leave the bar, and Ushijima must have known that. His hand rested at the middle of Oikawa’s back, and he leaned close to say, “It is fine, Oikawa. I know they are only trying to embarrass you.”

“I hate them,” said Oikawa. 

“You do not.”

He was right. Oikawa sighed and approached the table, sitting beside Matsukawa so Ushijima could have the chair on the end. It seemed like the safest place to be.

“Good to see you again, Oikawa,” said Matsukawa. “It’s been years. I thought maybe you’d died.”

“I saw you last week.”

Matsukawa leaned in front of him to address Ushijima. “I’m Matsukawa. Thanks for bringing our prodigal son back home.”

Oikawa jabbed at him with an elbow. “His hero name is Tempest,” he explained. “You’ve probably seen him show up on the news for doing something stupid.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Matsukawa. “I’m a great hero.”

“When Iwaizumi is around to babysit you, maybe.”

Matsukawa looked across the table for support, but Iwaizumi only shrugged. “That’s cold, Iwa.”

“Want a drink?” asked Iwaizumi. “On us.” He’d been just as annoying as the others on the phone, but it seemed he at least knew how to act normally in person. 

“No, thank you,” said Ushijima. “I do not drink.”

Iwaizumi gave Oikawa a look. Even without speaking, Oikawa knew he was thinking about the time he’d advised Oikawa to get Ushijima drunk, just to see what would happen. 

“Aren’t you going to offer me a drink?” said Oikawa. 

“After you’ve had free fancy Shiratorizawa booze all night?” said Hanamaki. “Not likely. No offense, Valor.”

“None taken.”

“I’m surprised they let you in the bar, looking like that,” said Matsukawa, gesturing at their suits. “It’s a clear violation of the dress code.”

“There is no dress code.”

“Of course there is.” Matsukawa plucked at his wrinkled t-shirt. “If you can’t pass for homeless, you’re overdressed. That’s the dress code.”

“You’re a moron, Mattsun,” said Oikawa.

“You should work on your repertoire of insults. I’ve heard that one before.”

“Tell us about your fancy party.” Hanamaki leaned halfway across the table, and would’ve knocked over his drink if Iwaizumi hadn’t snatched it out of the way. “Let us peasants live vicariously through you.”

“It was great,” said Oikawa flatly. “The company was much better than here.”

Hanamaki gasped like he’d been stabbed. “You wound me.”

“Speaking of wounds,” said Matsukawa, “show us where you got shot.”

“Yeah, show us!”

Fortunately, Iwaizumi chose that moment to be a decent friend. “Shut up, guys. You wouldn’t be so thrilled about it if you were the ones who got shot.” He took a sip of his whiskey and said, “But seriously, tell us about the party.”

Oikawa could have hugged him. He glanced at Ushijima, to gauge his reaction to the atmosphere. He seemed remarkably unbothered. Oikawa thought anyone else would have been scared off by now. He certainly would have been, if he’d been meeting Hanamaki and Matsukawa for the first time.

“Well, it was a lot classier than any of Seijoh’s parties,” said Oikawa. “Don’t tell Irihata I said that. Phoenix was there - remember when we ran into him that at that accident last year, Iwa-chan? You guys seemed to get along - and I met…”

Once they started a normal conversation, things weren’t as awkward. Hanamaki and Matsukawa settled down, apparently satisfied with the amount of embarrassment they’d already layered onto Oikawa. Ushijima was mostly quiet, but he chimed into the conversation every now and then. Oikawa would have worried if it had been anyone else, but he knew Ushijima. He only spoke when he had something relevant to say.

Oikawa hadn’t known how things would turn out here, but it was surprisingly comfortable. Somehow the group all fit together, despite their differences.

Gradually, as time wore on, Oikawa found himself sitting closer to Ushijima. He didn’t remember moving, but he knew Ushijima was in the same spot, so he must have. Their chairs were close enough that their thighs brushed together, knees knocking when either of them moved. Hanamaki said something dumb, and Oikawa laughed, subconsciously leaning into Ushijima. Ushijima shifted, stretched an arm over the back of Oikawa’s chair as if by reflex. The warmth of him was like a fog, shrouding Oikawa’s brain, making everything else seem blurry and distant. Ushijima glanced over at him, perfectly relaxed and composed. He caught Oikawa staring and gave him a smile, soft and subtle.

Oikawa felt so warm that he could have melted into the floor.

“Yo, Oikawa.”

Something struck Oikawa in the chest. It took him a moment to realize it was a piece of the greasy food Iwaizumi had just ordered.

“Watch it,” snapped Oikawa, brushing off his jacket. “This suit cost a lot of money.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Iwaizumi. He flicked another piece of food. Oikawa conjured a tiny shield to deflect it. “You got that suit for cheap at the thrift store, don’t make shit up.”

Oikawa glared at him. “If I recall, I think you were there with me, buying your own suit. Only it was harder to find one in your size because you’re so  _ short _ .”

The next piece of food came straight for Oikawa’s face, but another miniature shield sent it bouncing away. Hanamaki laughed, loudly enough that Oikawa could tell he’d had a few drinks too many. 

“It’s getting late,” said Oikawa. He checked the time on his phone, but didn’t really know what it said. He was too caught up in his head, wondering what would happen when they left. “We should go. We have a patrol shift to work tomorrow, right, Ushiwaka?”

“If you are up for it,” said Ushijima. “I do not want you to push yourself.”

“I told you I’m fine.” Oikawa stood, and waited for Ushijima to do the same.

“He always says that,” said Iwaizumi. “Once in high school he snapped his wrist clean in half and kept saying it was fine. It took two days for him to agree to go to the doctor.” 

“I’ll admit that wasn’t my best display of decision-making skills,” said Oikawa, wincing at the memory, “but this time I really am fine. It didn’t damage anything important.”

“That’s disappointing,” said Hanamaki. “We thought it was going to be a big deal.”

“I’m so sorry my bullet wound isn’t dramatic enough for you.” Oikawa rolled his eyes as he turned away. “We’ll see you guys later. Try not to do anything dumb and get arrested.”

“That was one time,” said Hanamaki, “and they didn’t even make me stay in jail.”

“Have a good night, Oikawa,” said Matsukawa. Oikawa didn’t look back at him, but he could imagine the suggestive expression on his face.

“I’ll call you in the morning,” said Iwaizumi, and Oikawa just  _ knew _ he was grinning.

The air had gotten even colder while they’d been in the shelter of the bar. Oikawa shivered and pulled his jacket close around his neck, blocking the chill. If he hadn’t been in public, he would’ve made a full-body shield to keep the wind away.

Ushijima tucked his hands into his pockets and exhaled, his breath visible. Before he could speak, Oikawa said, “You don’t live too far from here. Can I walk you home?”

“I was going to offer the same.”

“I asked first, so that means I win,” said Oikawa. Without waiting for an answer, he started off toward the intersection that would lead them to Ushijima’s apartment.

Despite the cold, his face remained warm. He knew it was from nervousness. He’d been wondering all day what would happen after the party. He hadn’t factored in the trip to the bar, but it didn’t matter. He’d wondered what would happen, had spent hours thinking about it, but now that the time had arrived, he wasn’t so sure things would go the way he’d hoped.

Oikawa liked Ushijima. He liked him a lot, more than he would’ve ever expected. It was strange, admitting that to himself after all they’d been through in the beginning. It was strange, but in a good way, and he was pleased with the way things had gone.

When they were a few blocks away, Oikawa slipped his arm through Ushijima’s, pulling them closer. He waited to see if Ushijima would resist, but he leaned into the contact easily, his steps falling in sync with Oikawa’s.

They were there sooner than Oikawa had expected, and he realized his time to think was over.

“Thank you for attending the event with me,” said Ushijima, as they drew to a stop on the sidewalk. The apartment loomed over them, some of the windows glowing, some of them dark. “I greatly enjoyed your company.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks for putting up with my idiot friends.”

“There is no need to thank me for that. They are interesting, and they clearly care a great deal for you.”

“I guess so.”

“I will see you tomorrow,” said Ushijima, “if you still feel up to a patrol.”

He started to pull away, his arm slipping away from Oikawa’s.

“Ushijima, wait.”

Ushijima did, waiting patiently as Oikawa gathered his nerve.

Oikawa took a deep breath that tasted of winter and said, “I don’t know if you still want me to, but… if you do, I’m sure this time.”

The crease that Oikawa had become very familiar with appeared between Ushijima’s brows. “I do not know what you mean.”

Oikawa took another breath. It burned in his lungs, but the shock if it helped him focus. “The first time we went out, I walked you home, and you said… the next day, you said you would’ve invited me in. And I said I wasn’t sure if I would have accepted. But now… now I’m sure. If you haven’t changed your mind, of course. If you have then obviously that’s fine. It’s been a long day, and it’s really late, and-”

“Oikawa.” 

Oikawa closed his mouth. He was glad Ushijima had interrupted, because he may have rambled on indefinitely.

Ushijima studied him, the sharp light of the street lamp cutting across his features. “Would you like to come up to my apartment?”

Oikawa had been waiting for that question, but it still punched the breath right out of his lungs. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I would.”

Ushijima reached out, caught Oikawa’s hand in his. “Come on, then,” said Ushijima. “We should get out of the cold.”

Oikawa went with him, his heart kicking in his chest.

The elevator ride was silent. Oikawa stared straight ahead, hyperaware of Ushijima’s fingers threaded through his own. They’d never held hands before, not like this.

He thought maybe they were about to do a lot of things they’d never done before.

The doors slid open, and Ushijima guided Oikawa to the end of the hall, to the very last apartment on the top floor. 

“I did not expect you to come,” said Ushijima, “so please disregard anything that is out of place.” He stepped over the threshold, but Oikawa hesitated, his arm pulling Ushijima short.

“If you would rather I go, I will,” said Oikawa. “I don’t want to just invite myself if you’re not-”

“I have wanted you here for a long while, Oikawa,” said Ushijima. “I was only waiting for you to want the same thing.”

Oikawa’s stomach flipped over. He followed Ushijima inside without another word, shedding his shoes and his jacket by the door. Ushijima did the same, and when he hung his jacket on the coat rack, the dress shirt beneath pulled tight over the muscles of his back.

“Again, I apologize for the clutter,” said Ushijima.

Oikawa looked around. It wasn’t an extravagant apartment, but it was nice; much nicer than his own. There was a full kitchen rather than a few cabinets with a cooktop, and a fully furnished living room with an electric fireplace beneath a wide screen tv. There were a few dishes in the sink, an unopened package on the counter, and a blanket crumpled into a ball at the end of the couch, but those were the only out-of-place things that Oikawa could see.

“Please, Ushiwaka,” said Oikawa. “You’ve been to my apartment. You know how I live my life. It’s a thousand times worse than this.”

“I enjoy your apartment. It has charm.”

Oikawa snorted.

“Then again,” said Ushijima, “maybe that is because you are there.”

Oikawa tried not to blush. He failed.

He pulled himself together and said, “Are you going to give me a full tour?” 

“If you would like that.”

“I would.”

Ushijima studied him closely, as if seeking something in his expression. “You are certain?”

“Yeah,” said Oikawa. “I am.”

Ushijima took Oikawa’s hand again, so easily that they could have done it a hundred times before. He led them into the bedroom, and released Oikawa to cross the floor and turn on the lamp. It was dim, but the glow was enough for Oikawa to survey the room. The bed was large, perfectly made with a pair of pillows nestled at the top. There was a wardrobe and a small dresser, and a laundry basket in the corner with a very familiar uniform sleeve peeking over the edge. 

It was neat and simple, very typical of Ushijima.

“I like it,” said Oikawa. “It’s a nice place.”

“Thank you.”

“Then again, maybe that’s just because you’re here.” Oikawa said it with an exaggerated eye roll, and Ushijima laughed, low and deep.

Oikawa blinked at him. He’d never heard Ushijima laugh before.

“You may stay the night, if you would like,” said Ushijima. “But do not feel as if there are any expectations.”

Oikawa remembered when they’d met, and he’d thought Ushijima was an arrogant, emotionless asshole.

He’d been so stupid.

Oikawa stepped closer, resting a hand on Ushijima’s chest. He stared at his own fingers, spread against the white shirt, and slowly raised his eyes. Ushijima was watching him, his stare so dark that Oikawa could have drowned in it.

Oikawa couldn’t think of anything to say, but that was okay. He didn’t need to talk. He eased forward, until he could taste Ushijima’s breath on his lips, until there was barely any distance between them. The first brush of his mouth was soft, careful. Ushijima let him do as he wanted, his eyes falling closed, lips slightly parted.

Oikawa curled a hand around the back of Ushijima’s neck. It was strong and sturdy, just like the rest of him. This time when he leaned in for a kiss, it was firmer, more confident. Ushijima kissed him back, and his arm slipped around Oikawa’s waist, grounding him.

Oikawa curled a finger into the knot of Ushijima’s tie, pulling it loose. He plucked at the top button of Ushijima’s shirt, but a warm hand caught his wrist. Ushijima pulled back to look at him, his eyes even darker than before.

“We do not have to do this,” said Ushijima. “I do not wish for you to feel pressured.”

Oikawa licked his lips. “Do I seem like the kind of person who does anything I don’t want to do?”

“…no, you do not.”

“Okay then.” Oikawa worked his wrist free and popped open the button, slowly moving down to the next. “If you want to stop, then say so. Otherwise, I won’t.”

Ushijima said nothing, and Oikawa’s knuckles brushed against his bare chest as he worked his way through the buttons of Ushijima’s shirt. When it hung open, Ushijima shrugged it off himself, letting it crumple onto the floor. His tie went with it, and Oikawa had only a moment to appreciate the solid, sturdy build of Ushijima’s bare chest.

Then Ushijima was kissing him, firm but steady, and Oikawa forgot everything else.

There were fingers at his throat, loosening his own tie, tugging at the button of his own shirt. Oikawa was distantly aware, but he couldn’t focus on that with Ushijima’s mouth moving against his own, with the fleeting taste of Ushijima’s tongue against his lips.

Oikawa’s back hit the wall, and he hadn’t even realized he’d moved. Ushijima caged him in, one arm pressed against the wall by Oikawa’s head, the other hand curled around the curve of Oikawa’s jaw as he kissed him again, deeper this time, their tongues meeting and twisting in a way that made Oikawa’s stomach lurch. 

Ushijima ducked his head to kiss Oikawa’s neck, the gentle press of his mouth grazing down to Oikawa’s collarbone. His hand was between them, working at Oikawa’s belt, but Oikawa hardly noticed. He didn’t notice much of anything until Ushijima slowly sank to his knees.

Ushijima eased Oikawa’s slacks down slowly, staring up at him all the while. There was a question in his eyes. Oikawa slipped his fingers through Ushijima’s hair, gently, savoring the texture of it. That was permission enough.

When Ushijima’s mouth wrapped around him, warm and careful, Oikawa bit his lip so hard that it stung. He pressed one hand against the wall, as if to keep himself upright, and kept the other one in Ushijima’s hair. 

Ushijima went slowly, tracing his tongue over every part of Oikawa it could reach. He sank further onto Oikawa, taking more of him, hollowing his cheeks in a way that made Oikawa twitch. Oikawa’s grip went tight, but Ushijima didn’t seem to mind. He kept working his mouth around Oikawa, sucking at him until Oikawa shuddered and pushed him away.

“You have to stop doing that,” said Oikawa. “I can’t…”

He didn’t elaborate, but he didn’t need to. Ushijima rose, and this time when their mouths met, there was a hot pulse of  _ need _ that shocked Oikawa down to his core. He fumbled with Ushijima’s belt, clumsy fingers prying it open and tearing at the clasp of his pants. It took more time than it should have, but they fell to the floor, and Oikawa’s searching hands dragged Ushijima’s underwear down with them. Oikawa stepped forward and Ushijima matched him, the pair of them crossing the room with surprising grace until Oikawa found himself on his back in the middle of Ushijima’s bed, a solid wall of muscle pressed over him.

Oikawa pulled Ushijima down for a kiss, thrusting his tongue into Ushijima’s mouth, pushing his hips up in search of friction. Ushijima gave it to him, rolling against him until Oikawa shivered. Oikawa gasped into Ushijima’s mouth, his teeth catching at Ushijima’s lip before he collapsed back.

Ushijima was undeterred. He nosed against Oikawa’s throat, drawing a line with his tongue, sucking against the skin in a way that made Oikawa rut up against him.

“Oikawa.” His voice was a rumble that Oikawa felt in his chest.

Oikawa tried to say  _ what, _ but the best he could do was a low sound in the back of his throat.

Ushijima’s hand trailed from Oikawa’s ribs to his hip. “Would you like to continue?”

Oikawa squeezed his eyes shut, took a breath. “If you stop now, I’m never speaking to you again.”

Ushijima didn’t answer, and through his haze, Oikawa thought maybe he shouldn’t have joked about that. He started to say something else, but the words were bitten into a gasp as Ushijima slipped a hand between Oikawa’s legs. His fingers were slick. Oikawa didn’t know where the lube had come from, or when Ushijima had gotten it. He didn’t know much of anything at all, except that Ushijima’s fingers were thick, and warm, and that he wanted  _ more _ .

“Ushiwaka,” he said, his voice weak, breathy. He curled a hand around Ushijima’s shoulder and said, more quietly, “Wakatoshi.”

Ushijima went completely still. He looked at Oikawa slowly, and his pupils were blown so wide that his eyes were almost black. 

It seemed like a good reaction, so Oikawa said it again, his voice scraping a whisper. “ _ Wakatoshi _ .”

Ushijima kissed him, and the force of it stole Oikawa’s breath. Ushijima’s teeth closed around Oikawa’s lip; gently, but still it sent a full-body shudder racing down his spine.

Oikawa was so caught up in the kiss, of the heat of Ushijima’s mouth, in the sweep of his tongue over the back of Oikawa’s teeth, that he didn’t notice what Ushijima was doing until he was already pressing into him, the thickness of him spreading Oikawa open in a way that was just shy of painful.

Oikawa pressed up against him, hooking one leg around Ushijima’s thick waist, tilting his head back with a moan as Ushijima sank into him.

They were both breathing hard, panting breaths mingling in the hot air between them. Oikawa’s hands dug into Ushijima’s back, and he felt the muscles shifting beneath his palms. 

Oikawa rolled his hips, and a moan trickled from deep in his throat. “Come on, Ushiwaka…  _ Wakatoshi _ . Don’t stop now.”

“I am not stopping,” said Ushijima. He kissed Oikawa’s collarbone, following it up to the base of his throat. “Only waiting.”

“Don’t wait, then.”

“I refuse to hurt you.”

Oikawa let his head fall back with a huff. “You are doing the complete opposite of that, trust me.”

Ushijima rumbled a laugh. The sound of it sent heat pooling low in Oikawa’s gut. “I am only being cautious. I care about you, Oikawa.”

Oikawa’s fingers dug harder into Ushijima’s back. He swallowed, started to reply, but Ushijima shifted his hips and all of Oikawa’s thoughts fragmented into nothing. 

Ushijima was a solid heat inside of him, pushing deeper, sending sharp pulses of pleasure ripping through Oikawa’s body. Oikawa chased the sensation, rocking against him, taking him as far as he could. Ushijima kissed him, his breath hot, as he thrust his hips forward. Oikawa’s moan was muffled into Ushijima’s mouth. He clawed at Ushijima’s shoulders and pushed up to meet the next thrust, the impact making both of them gasp.

“You can go harder,” said Oikawa, as Ushijima mouthed at his neck. “You won’t hurt me. Don’t hold back, Wakatoshi, just… oh  _ god _ …”

Ushijima’s next thrust punched the air from Oikawa’s lungs, sent a spike of pleasure deep into his core. Oikawa gasped for breath as Ushijima struck a rhythm, hammering into him, the thrill of it making Oikawa’s mind hazy. Oikawa struggled to focus, and slammed his hips up to match Ushijima’s rhythm, both of them panting, their mouths meeting in a messy clash of tongues.

Oikawa was close. He knew he was, could feel it in the twist of his gut, in the heat that burned like white-hot embers in his veins. Ushijima must have felt it, must have known. He traced Oikawa’s hipbone, his hand wrapping around Oikawa, the size of it swallowing him whole. Ushijima stroked him, his hips still ramming into Oikawa, his mouth latched onto Oikawa’s neck.

Oikawa’s head fell back as his orgasm swept through him, a static pleasure that throbbed in his blood. He moaned, and his voice was shaped words, syllables, that he couldn’t quite grasp. 

He didn’t realize until he began floating down, until he pried his hands away from solid shoulders, until Ushijima gave one final thrust before pulsing inside of him, that he’d been moaning  _ Wakatoshi _ .

Ushijima pulled out, slowly, and though Oikawa felt hollow from the absence, the heat of Ushijima lying against him was gratifying. Ushijima peeled away from him to lean off the edge of the bed and dispose of the condom - Oikawa hadn’t even been aware that he’d put one on - and then he was back, wiping the mess off of Oikawa’s stomach with a handful of tissues. Oikawa tried to mumble a thank you, but it didn’t sound like human speech.

Ushijima curled an arm around Oikawa’s waist, and his breath whispered against Oikawa’s jaw. 

They stayed like that for a while. Oikawa couldn’t scrape up the energy to move. Even if he could have, he didn’t want to move. He was perfectly content, completely relaxed. 

Ushijima seemed to feel the same way. “Will you stay for the night?”

Oikawa huffed a breath through his nose and layered his arm overtop of Ushijima’s. “If you think I’m leaving after that, you’re dumber than Hanamaki.”

“Good,” said Ushijima. “I would like for you to stay. Tonight, and any other time.”

Oikawa levered his eyes open to find Ushijima already looking at him. He looked tired, but satisfied. There was a slight curve to his mouth, a smile that made Oikawa feel warm; a different sort of warm than he’d felt several minutes before.

“You sure about that, Ushiwaka?” He said it with a smile, but something about it felt off. “I know I’m great and all, but a top hero like you could probably do better.”

Ushijima frowned, that crease digging deep between his brows. “There is no one better, Oikawa.”

If Oikawa hadn’t been so physically drained, his entire body would have flushed from that compliment. “I was awful to you when we first started working together. I didn’t want to do it. You know that, right? Irihata-san made me. If I’d had my way, I would’ve never even spoken to you.”

Ushijima quietly considered him. “And now?”

“What?”

“Now,” repeated Ushijima. “Do you feel differently now?”

“Obviously,” said Oikawa. “I don’t crawl into bed with just anyone.”

“Then it does not matter,” said Ushijima. He curled closer, his nose against Oikawa’s jaw. His voice was a deep rumble that Oikawa could  _ feel _ . “You are here now. Anything that happened in the past no longer matters.”

Oikawa sighed, relaxing back against the sheets. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

“I wondered why you were so abrasive, considering you were the one who asked for a team-up,” said Ushijima. There was a soft humor in his voice. “I thought perhaps it was just your personality.”

Oikawa laughed, pressing himself closer against Ushijima. “It is, I guess. I’m naturally kind of an asshole.”

“No,” said Ushijima, “you are not.”

Oikawa was too comfortable to argue. He held Ushijima, and let himself be held. His shoulder prickled uncomfortably every now and then, but it was easy to ignore. Everything was easy to ignore when he was wrapped up with Ushijima.

He fell asleep like that, and it may have been the best rest he’d ever gotten.

  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking out another fic with me, you guys! Especially my first Ushioi multi-chap. All the comments/kudos you've left mean a lot! Until next time. 💖

Ushijima cooked breakfast for him the following morning. They sat at the table to eat, Oikawa dressed in a pair of borrowed sweatpants, his hair a mess and his body aching in the most satisfying way. 

Ushijima cooked the next time Oikawa stayed over, too; and the time after that. It became a routine, one that Oikawa never wanted to break.

On the nights that Ushijima stayed over at Oikawa’s apartment, things went a little differently. They went running together on those mornings, after Oikawa took up a little too much time complaining about having to get out of bed. It was more difficult to wake up and be productive when there was a warm body beside him. Eventually they were on their way, and they followed the same route as usual; except they passed up the convenience store to stop at a small restaurant down the street. Ushijima always ordered the same thing, and Oikawa always made a comment about it, the jab softened by a smile.

Oikawa was happy; much happier than he could’ve ever expected.

“You know,” said Oikawa a short time later, pinned against the shower wall amid a haze of steam. “We could skip patrol and stay here. A little more time in bed never hurt anyone.”

Ushijima made a low sound that rumbled in his chest. He kissed Oikawa’s jaw, his bare body pressing in closer. “We must go. We have a responsibility to the city.”

“Yeah,” agreed Oikawa. He turned his head to catch Ushijima’s mouth with his, kissing him deeply, lingering. He slipped a hand between them, squeezed Ushijima in a way that drew his breath short. “You have a responsibility to me, too. What’re you gonna do, Wakatoshi?”

They began their patrol twenty minutes late, and Oikawa adjusted the collar of his uniform to make sure the fresh mark just below it was well hidden.

They’d made a good team even before they’d gotten into this relationship, but things had only improved since then. Oikawa didn’t have to spend so much time wondering what was going on inside Ushijima’s head. He knew now, most of the time. They’d spent enough time together that he recognized the little changes in Ushijima’s expression, the way his shoulders went stiffer when he was focused on something, the way he smiled without actually smiling. It was strange to think of how difficult it had been to read Ushijima when they’d first met. It seemed so easy now.

But it was a fair trade, and Ushijima learned to guess what Oikawa was thinking, too.

“Would you like to stop for coffee?” asked Ushijima, when they were about halfway finished with their patrol shift.

Oikawa had been thinking of that exact thing. “Yeah, sure.”

Ushijima ordered for both of them at the coffee shop. He knew what Oikawa liked.

It had been four months since they’d first met, three months since Oikawa had decided that maybe he liked Ushijima more than he’d intended. That wasn’t much time, objectively speaking.

But somehow it felt like forever.

“Thanks,” said Oikawa, when Ushijima passed over the coffee and sat next to him. They stayed on the professional side of their relationship when they were working, but Oikawa thought sitting closely enough that their thighs touched wasn’t crossing any boundaries.

“Would you still like to go out tonight?” asked Ushijima, taking a sip of his own drink. Oikawa knew it was decaf. He’d told Ushijima on more than one occasion that drinking decaf was a complete waste of time.

“Not really, but if I back out, the idiots will show up at my apartment,” said Oikawa. He’d been bullied into agreeing to another night out at the bar with his friends. He was less worried about it this time, because he knew Ushijima could handle them.

“They enjoy your company,” said Ushijima. “Who could blame them?”

Oikawa nudged his leg against Ushijima’s. “I’d rather just spend time with you.”

“I already agreed to accompany you.”

“No, I mean just you. Only you.”

Ushijima gave one of those smiles that wouldn’t have looked like a smile to anyone else. “We will have time together afterward.”

“Yeah, I know.” He did, but still it seemed there was never enough time.

“Reon mentioned that he and a few of the others were planning a get-together soon,” said Ushijima. “Perhaps you would be willing to go?”

“Yeah, of course,” said Oikawa. “If you can put up with my loser friends then I can spend some time with yours.”

“I enjoy your friends.”

“I know. I just can’t figure out why. They’re awful.” He said it with a smile, so Ushijima would know he wasn’t being serious. Not completely, at least.

Oikawa was only halfway through his coffee when Ushijima’s phone went off, an insistent chime that immediately put Oikawa on edge.

It was the emergency ring.

Ushijima was out of his seat and heading toward the door by the second ring, the phone pressed against his ear. Oikawa got caught up in the leg of his chair, but steadied himself and followed. He sucked down another gulp of coffee and tossed it in the bin as he dashed out of the shop in pursuit of Ushijima.

He hadn’t gone far. He was staring off into the distance, still holding the phone.

“I understand,” he said. His tone was edged, tense. “We will be there shortly.”

“Where?” asked Oikawa, as soon as the call ended.

“The Roppongi Tower,” said Ushijima. “They just started evacuating. Someone is on the roof. They said they have a bomb.”

Oikawa thought of the night Ushijima had flown him to the top of the tower, when they’d looked at the stars together.

That was a good memory. He had a feeling this one would be much worse.

“Okay.” Oikawa stepped close without prompting, without a second thought. “Let’s go.”

Over the past couple of months, he’d gotten used to flying. It no longer gave him that nauseous lurch in his stomach. He was still shaking every time they landed, but it was from the rush of adrenaline, not fear. There was nothing for him to be afraid of. Ushijima would never let him fall.

There was a heavy crowd of people flowing out of the Roppongi Tower on the ground level, the revolving door in constant flux. Most of the evacuees were calm, but some were pushing their way through in a mild panic. Oikawa wondered what they’d heard, what they’d been told. 

“How many people would be inside?” asked Oikawa, as they hovered a few stories off the ground, looking down. “Hundreds? Thousands?”

“Too many,” said Ushijima. A burst of speed propelled them upward, the windows blurring as they ascended, and Oikawa held on tight.

They landed on the roof of the building, Ushijima touching down smoothly. Oikawa staggered once, but regained his balance quickly. He didn’t have a choice. There was a man standing in the middle of the roof, as expected.

And just as they’d been warned, there was a blocky bundle wrapped in wires at his feet.

Oikawa had dealt with a lot of things during his time as a hero, but he’d never had to stare down a bomb.

Ushijima took a single step forward and Oikawa mirrored him, keeping close so he would only need one shield to protect them both.

“Hello,” said Ushijima. It was polite on the surface, but Oikawa felt the tension in his voice, like a dark undercurrent. “Is there something we can help you with?”

The man didn’t seem surprised to see them. His face was so blank that Oikawa doubted he would’ve been surprised by anything at all. The stranger said, “That didn’t take long. Not long at all.”

Ushijima took another step. The man didn’t move. “Is there a problem? May we discuss it?”

Oikawa didn’t care about this man’s problems, and he doubted Ushijima did, either. They needed to stall him long enough for the evacuation to finish, just in case. 

“Lots of problems,” said the man. “No solutions.”

Something about him was unsettling. It made the hair on the back of Oikawa’s neck rise, made him move even closer to Ushijima with the texture of a shield already thrumming at his fingertips. 

“I am certain we can come up with some solutions,” said Ushijima, “if only you explain the problems.”

“Too many problems.” The man looked away from them, his head dropping toward the bomb. “One solution.” 

He started to kneel, one dangling hand reaching downward.

Ushijima said “ _ Stop,”  _ and there was so much authority in his voice that the man went still.

Oikawa’s heart was beating in his throat. He reached blindly for Ushijima, eyes still on the stranger, and clutched a hand around Ushijima’s wrist, tethering them together. 

They wouldn’t die here. Oikawa wouldn’t let them.

“This is not something you want to do,” said Ushijima. “I promise you that.”

The man tilted his head up, staring from an unnatural angle. For a moment Oikawa thought that had worked, thought the man would stand down.

But he gave a strange, contorted lurch, and slapped a hand against the bomb. Oikawa braced himself, but nothing happened, not yet.

There was a low, threatening  _ beep… beep… beep… _

“Thirty seconds,” said the man, stepping back with a gash of a smile on his face. “Thirty seconds until everything is solved.”

Ushijima started to move, but Oikawa yanked him back. 

“I can get it far enough to prevent any damage to the city,” said Ushijima. “If I fly straight up, no one will be near enough to be hurt.”

“Except for you,” snapped Oikawa. “You’re not doing that.”

_ Beep… beep… beep… _

“I am invincible, Oikawa.”

“Have you ever tried that out against a bomb?” 

Ushijima didn’t answer.

“That’s what I thought,” said Oikawa. “What if it’s too much for you to shake off? What if it knocks you out and you fall out of the sky and you… and you…”

_ Beep… beep… beep… _

“I will take that chance,” said Ushijima.

“Yeah.” Oikawa stepped ahead of him, flung an arm out to push him a step back. “But I won’t.” He raised a hand, zeroed in his focus, thought of the bomb and only the bomb. The shield sprang from him easily, a blue globe encapsulating the threat, the beeping muffled. 

Conjuring the shield was the easy part. 

Holding onto it would be a different story.

“Oikawa.” Ushijima’s hand was on his shoulder. “If it slips through-”

“It won’t.” The words slid through Oikawa’s teeth, and he tried to mean them. 

The man watched them from the other side of the roof, still so blank.

There was a muffled  _ beep… beep… _

And then silence.

Oikawa thought maybe it had been a fake, a trap.

Then it exploded, like a nuclear burst contained in the small cage of his shield, which suddenly felt much too flimsy.

Oikawa flung out his other hand, pushing all of his energy into the glowing sphere, slamming it harder against the pressure. His teeth rattled, his muscles quaked, and he felt like the bomb had burst inside his own ribcage. There was so much pressure that he thought it would crush him, that it would shatter him, that it would leave him broken into splintered pieces on that rooftop.

But he didn’t let go. Ushijima was standing beside him, saying his name with the softest taste of panic, and Oikawa didn’t let go.

He didn’t know how long an explosion could last. He’d never needed to know, before now. It was probably only a few seconds, but it felt like longer, felt like it would never end.

Finally the pressure faltered, shrank. Oikawa stumbled, went down to his knees, heard Ushijima’s voice somewhere above him. There was a ringing in his ears that sounded like unconsciousness. 

But he didn’t let go, not until the explosion had flickered into nothing. 

When Oikawa released the shield, it was like having a splinter ripped from his skin; except the splinter was the size of a longsword, and it had been plunged straight through his chest. 

He gasped, barely caught himself on his hands so his face didn’t slam against the roof. 

But even if he hadn’t caught himself, he wouldn’t have fallen. Ushijima was there, supporting him. Ushijima would never let him fall.

“Oikawa.  _ Oikawa _ .”

Oikawa clutched at his chest. It hurt, a deep ache that pulsed and throbbed like an open wound. He sat up slowly, and Ushijima didn’t let him go.

“It’s fine,” said Oikawa. His voice sounded like it was coming from far away. He tasted blood, and was confused until he realized it was pouring from his nose.

That hadn’t happened since he was a teenager, when he’d first started learning how to use his powers.

He wiped it off on the back of his hand and looked across the roof. His vision was bleary, but he could make out the shape of the stranger, still standing there, as if waiting for something.

“Tooru.”

“I’m okay.” Oikawa wiped his nose again. The blood was bright on his sleeve. It reminded him of when he’d been shot. That may have been less painful. But this wouldn’t last, and he knew it. He’d used too much energy, but he would recover. He just needed a little time. 

Ushijima’s hand was on his face, tilting his head to the side, studying him.

Oikawa leaned into it, for just a second, before gently pulling away. “Really, Ushiwaka. I’m fine. I swear. Pay attention to what that asshole is doing.”

Ushijima was reluctant, but he turned away from Oikawa to face the stranger, who still watched. He’d retreated further away, close to the far edge. He tilted his head, and Oikawa thought his neck should have snapped in half from the angle of it.

“One more chance,” said the stranger. “One more solution.”

“What does that mean?” hissed Oikawa. 

The man didn’t answer. Instead, he took three steps back and fell from the edge of the building. 

“Don’t move.” As soon as the words left Ushijima’s lips, he was a blur, shooting across the roof and into the open air. That asshole wouldn’t escape so easily. Ushijima would get him, and they would figure out what was wrong with him.

Oikawa got to his feet, slowly. The world around him tilted, but he planted his feet wide, and everything balanced out. There was an echo of the explosion in the back of his head, and it was just as gritty and raw as the real one had been.

Then the world shifted again, pitching to one side, and Oikawa realized that this wasn’t an echo of an explosion. It wasn’t his faulty equilibrium.

It was another bomb, from somewhere below. 

The stranger had planted a backup.

The rumble was like an earthquake, the roof tremoring under his feet. Beyond the roar of the explosion there were other sounds, loud cracks that sounded like the breaking bones of a giant.

It was the building, Oikawa realized, as the roof slanted to one side and he started slipping. The building was coming down.

And Oikawa would go down with it.

A chunk of concrete broke away, and Oikawa flailed to the side, trying to find stable ground. But nothing was stable; nothing was safe. The walls stories below him were giving way, and the roof would fall, no matter where he stood.

He could use a shield to cover himself. No matter where he fell, or what pieces of building fell on top of him, he would be safe.

Except he was so exhausted that he didn’t think he could make a shield, much less hold one for more than thirty seconds. He would be crushed.

There was another shift, another crunch as the floor sank down several feet. Oikawa stumbled, caught himself in a crouch.

He couldn’t stay up there, not when the building was coming down. It would kill him. He’d used too much of his power and it would kill him.

Oikawa took a steadying breath, ignored the panicked kick of his heart. 

He couldn’t die here. He wouldn’t.

Ushijima would be on his way back, as soon as he realized what was happening. He would get Oikawa out of there.

Except the floor beneath Oikawa’s feet was collapsing, and there was no time to wait.

He knew what he needed to do, but knowing and actually doing it weren’t the same thing. 

The building groaned as it sank, and Oikawa was out of time.

He swallowed his fear and ran, the floor moving beneath his feet, making him stumble more than once. It felt like running on a treadmill, like trying so hard and not getting anywhere.

But he did get somewhere, and when he reached the edge of the roof, he didn’t stop. 

Oikawa leapt off of the building, arms spread and eyes closed, and plummeted into a freefall.

Falling out of the sky should have been terrifying. He knew he was falling fast, fast enough that he would shatter when he hit the ground.

But he wasn’t worried. He knew he wouldn’t fall that far.

He didn’t know how far down he’d gone. His eyes were still closed, his stomach lodged in his throat. The ground was close, it had to be.

There was an impact, one that knocked the breath out of him.

But it was warm, solid, and the voice in Oikawa’s ear was strained. “Please tell me you did not jump off of that building.”

Oikawa laughed. It was too high-pitched, a little hysteric. He opened his eyes and saw only Ushijima.

They were hovering near the tower, which was slowly collapsing in on itself. Smoke billowed from the busted windows, slowly rising to the sky.

They weren’t even halfway to the ground. Oikawa had fallen only a dozen floors before he’d been swept out of the air.

“I knew you would catch me,” said Oikawa. He wrapped an arm around Ushijima, pulling him close even in midair, feeling the strength of him. “You’d never let me fall.”

Ushijima exhaled, and some of the stiffness melted from his shoulders. “That was reckless.”

“Calculated,” corrected Oikawa. “Not reckless. Come on, take us down. We need to see how many people didn’t make it out.”

Things on the ground were nearly as bad as things had been on the roof. The public was in a panic. People were screaming, some of them running away, some of them trying to get closer. It was mayhem, and Ushijima put Oikawa right in the middle of it.

“I have to go inside,” said Ushijima, “and see if I can locate any survivors. Go speak with the police and tell them what happened. When other heroes show up, send them inside to help only if their powers are suited for it.”

“Be careful in there,” said Oikawa. “If you get hurt, I’ll be furious.”

Ushijima gave him that soft smile that wasn’t really a smile. “I will be fine. Have a medic check you over. Your nose is still bleeding. I will see you soon.” He rose into the air and zipped away toward the smoking building, disappearing inside through a broken window.

It would do no good for Oikawa to worry over him. Ushijima would be fine. He had to be.

Oikawa made his way through the press of the crowd, toward the base of the building, where the police were roping off the wreckage to keep the panicked civilians out. Oikawa wiped his bloody nose, took a breath that made his ribs ache, and went to work.

  
  
  
  
  


The Roppongi Tower incident was a nightmare. It had happened at four p.m. on a Monday. At noon the following day, Oikawa was still there, fighting a losing battle with his exhaustion while the last of the rescue efforts vacated the wreckage. It was a miracle that most occupants of the building had made it out in time. They’d rescued about a hundred victims from the rubble, and found about half that number dead. It was a tragedy, one that the city would never forget, but it could have been so much worse. 

Oikawa was sitting on a curb, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, when someone dropped to a seat beside him. He didn’t have to look up. He knew from the huff of breath that it was Iwaizumi. 

“Eighteen hours,” said Iwaizumi flatly. “I’ve been here for eighteen hours.”

“Twenty,” mumbled Oikawa. “I’ve got you beat, Iwa-chan.”

“That’s a competition I don’t want to win.” Iwaizumi slapped him on the shoulder, so gently that it was barely a tap. “Go home and get some rest. There’s nothing else we can do here.”

“I can’t,” said Oikawa. “Not until…”

_ Not until Ushijima is out _ .

He didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. Iwaizumi knew exactly what he was thinking. 

“Valor is making one last sweep of the building,” said Iwaizumi, “to make sure no one got left behind. It was lucky that only the top half of the tower collapsed. If the whole thing had gone down, we’d be here all week.”

And another few hundred people would have died. 

“I couldn’t help much,” said Oikawa. He raised his head slowly. Iwaizumi looked like he’d been working for a solid month rather than eighteen hours. Oikawa knew he didn’t look any better. “My powers aren’t good for this sort of thing.”

“Shut up,” said Iwaizumi, with a roll of his eyes. “Valor already told everyone how you stopped that bomb on the roof. If you hadn’t, things would’ve been twice as bad. You did your part.”

“I just think I could’ve done more.”

“You always think that. It’s what makes you a good hero. And a complete pain in my ass.” Iwaizumi stood, his boots scraping against the concrete. “Looks like it’s time for you to go. Get some sleep, alright? You look like shit.”

Oikawa wasn’t even offended by that. He was too distracted by the hero striding toward them, tall and strong despite the hours of rescue work. 

“The cleanup efforts will begin now,” said Ushijima, as he reached them. His hair was windblown, and dirt marred his face and stained his uniform, but otherwise he was as perfect as ever. He extended a hand to Oikawa, who used it to pull himself upright. “Are you ready to go home?”

“I’ve been ready for about twenty hours,” said Oikawa. He wanted nothing more than to lean on Ushijima, but this was the professional side of their boundary, and he was all too aware of the reporters that had been gathered across the street since the day before, watching them.

“Thank you for your help, Iwaizumi,” said Ushijima with a slight bow. “Things would have been more difficult if you had not been here.”

“You’re exaggerating, but thanks anyway,” said Iwaizumi. “Call us anytime you need us. We’re usually not doing anything important.”

By “we” he meant himself and Hanamaki and Matsukawa, who’d been there for the better part of the rescue efforts. A lot of heroes had shown up to help, including most of the Shiratorizawa Agency. If they hadn’t, it would’ve taken much longer.

“I have a taxi waiting for us,” said Ushijima, gesturing down the street.

Oikawa started in that direction without a word, eager to get to the car and get out of there. He wondered why Ushijima didn’t just offer to fly them home. Maybe he was just as exhausted as Oikawa was; more exhausted, probably. He’d only rested when Oikawa had forced him to take breaks.

“Would you like to go to your apartment,” said Ushijima, as they climbed into the taxi, “or mine?”

Oikawa leaned his head back on the seat, eyes closed. “Whatever’s closer.”

Ushijima gave the driver the address of his own apartment, and when he settled back, he took Oikawa’s hand.

“I thought it was professional time, Ushiwaka,” said Oikawa with a weary smile, his eyes still closed.

“Our shift is over. We are on the cusp.”

Oikawa threaded their fingers together and said nothing else until they arrived.

He was comfortable with Ushijima’s apartment by then. It felt like home just as much as his own. More so, at times. 

Oikawa’s lease would run out in a few months. He was thinking about letting it expire and moving somewhere else instead. Somewhere like right here.

“You may shower first, if you’d like,” said Ushijima. 

“It’s your place. You should get to go first.”

Ushijima began the complicated process of taking off his uniform. “Together, then.”

“Yeah,” said Oikawa. He mimicked Ushijima, fumbling with the snaps and zippers of his own clothing. “Together.”

It was the most relaxing shower that Oikawa had ever had. He soaked in the hot water as a solid day of grime sloughed off of him. He may have stayed there indefinitely, if Ushijima hadn’t been in the shower with him. He maneuvered out of the way and slouched against the tile wall so Ushijima could have a turn. 

Ushijima scrubbed himself down, and Oikawa only realized his eyes had slipped closed when Ushijima touched his jaw and startled him into opening them again.

“Are you certain you’re alright?” asked Ushijima. He studied Oikawa closely, his concern tangible. He used his thumbnail to scrape off a lingering spot of dried blood on Oikawa’s chin. 

“Yeah, I’m sure. I just overexerted myself. I’ll sleep for about twelve hours and be fine.”

Ushijima kissed him, brief and careful. “Please take care of yourself, Tooru. I do not know what I would do without you.”

Oikawa wanted to say that Ushijima would be just fine, that he had a normal life before Oikawa and he would have a normal life without him.

But he couldn’t say that, because he wasn’t sure what he would do without Ushijima, either.

Oikawa didn’t dry properly when he stepped out of the shower. He was so tired that he couldn’t. He dusted himself off with a towel, ignored the drip of his wet hair, and collapsed into Ushijima’s bed with a relieved sigh.

He was almost asleep when Ushijima joined him, only a minute later. Oikawa gathered the energy to roll close, curling against him.

“We must have been all over the news since yesterday,” said Ushijima, his voice low. The room was dark. Oikawa didn’t know when the lights had gone out. He must have dozed off for a minute. “I believe you will break the top ten hero rankings in Tokyo by morning.”

A few months ago, Oikawa would have been overjoyed to hear that. 

But he’d learned what was truly important about being a hero, and it wasn’t the rankings.

He’d spent the last solid day of his life working such a horrendous tragedy that it would be stamped into Tokyo’s history forever. He’d barely stopped a bomb, he’d jumped off of a roof, he’d watched Ushijima fly into a collapsing building to save people’s lives.

Being a hero wasn’t easy, and neither was dating one. There would always be another call, another situation, another crisis that they would have to handle. It wasn’t fun or glamorous. It was hard work, the hardest thing Oikawa had ever done.

But they were protecting their city. They were saving lives, and stopping villains, and making Tokyo a safer place. That was what it meant to be a hero. Ushijima had taught him that. Without him, Oikawa will still be floating through life, doing minor hero work, waiting for the day he could be famous.

Ushijima had done a lot for him,  _ meant _ a lot to him, and Oikawa wouldn’t trade that for anything.

“Don’t worry, Wakatoshi,” mumbled Oikawa, his voice already sticky with sleep. “When I’m more popular than you, we can still work together.” 

Ushijima laughed, a low rumble in his chest that Oikawa felt against his cheek. “That’s very generous of you. Go to sleep, Tooru.”

Oikawa was well on his way, but he fought it back, just long enough to murmur, “Love you.”

Ushijima’s fingers combed through Oikawa’s wet hair, gently. “I love you, as well.”

Oikawa knew that when he woke up, Ushijima would be waiting for him, and they would face the city’s next crisis together.

That was all Oikawa needed.

He fell asleep to the sound of Ushijima’s breathing, as comforting as a lullaby. 


End file.
